Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE PT2
by felicityphoenix
Summary: After nearly five years of exchanging letters, Ben returns and Felicity is older, but what expectations do the former childhood sweethearts have for each other now? A boy and a girl are now a man and a young woman, and things are not so innocent anymore..
1. The Letters of Felicity and Ben 1777

Felicity: An American Girl Romance Part2--THE LETTERS OF FELICITY AND BEN 1777

Author's Note: I do not own any American Girl characters. Pleasant Company owns it all. Nor is this for profit. 'Tis for swooning over.

And now for Part 2 of the BEST FELICITY AND BEN FANFIC IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, EVER!!! Just kidding! It's passing fair.  
Dedicated to everyone who read Part 1 and is still reading.

20th January, 1777  
Dear Felicity,  
I hope this letter finds you and your family well. We are here in Philadelphia, but we cannot stay long, for already we are being ordered on to New Jersey. I have met General George Washington, Lissie! He shook my hand, and it was a good hard grip. He and Captain Lee get on very well. We are eager for action and I know we shall soon have it. I have made fast friends with a Private Joshua Davison, who is as fine a fellow as I have ever met. This is all I am able to write for now. I am thinking of you always. Wish me luck!  
My love to all of you,  
Ben

7th February, 1777  
Dearest Ben,  
So good to hear from you at last! We are well. We pray for you every day. Not much is happening here but we are always waiting for news from the North. Ms. Manderly has begun our French lessons and they are very hard. When I am not at lessons, I am either helping Father and Mr. Haverty at the store or I am sewing with the Patriot Ladies of Williamsburg, which I am proud to be one of. came home for Christmas to be with his family but he cannot stay. But he is taking Annabelle back to New York with him. Elizabeth wishes for me to tell you that it is now safe for you to come back to Williamsburg. Ha Ha. I know Elizabeth is sad to see Annabelle go, but 'tis not permanent. Arthur and I keep Elizabeth busy. The Pratts' goat chewed off his rope and they spent a day hunting him down. I know you are busy with your soldier-stuff, so I will close for now. Be safe, my brave soldier. My best to Joshua Davison.  
Love,  
Felicity

27 February, 1777  
My Dearest Lissie,  
Your father was right. When a man sees war for the first time, and killing, it changes you. We were involved in some skirmishes and I was almost too surprised to fire my pistol, and a musket ball embedded itself in the tree trunk next to where I was standing with Grover, and Captain Lee had to holler at me to move my (behind) and be a soldier for Christ's sake. I have fired my pistol many times now. I am a soldier. I killed a man, Lissie, a redcoat, and all I could do was just stare at what I'd done. I did not look too closely at the man becuase I did not want to see where I had shot him. Joshua tells me it will get easier. Captain Lee tells me it will get easier. I am still waiting for it to get easier. I think of you Lissie and it helps. I am so happy to hear bout what you have been doing. There is not much to tell in the way of news. We are doing a lot of foraging. It is cold, but it could be worse if it were not for wollen stockings. I am grateful. Give my love to Arthur and Elizabeth, and to yourself as well.  
Yours truly  
Ben  
('Twas while reading this letter to her family that Felicity cried softly, for Ben had been shot at, and he'd shot a man to death. Apparently, it was colder up north, too. He had been shot at, shot an enemy, been surprised and probably terrified out of his wits, and thus was war.)

10th March, 1777  
My Dear, Brave Ben,  
I am so thankful that you were not shot! Please, Ben, take care, I beg you! I cannot lose you. Do not force me to have to come to where you are and steal you away from our dear Captain Lee, for I will surely do it, and there will be none to stop me. I love you and I will do what I must. Elizabeth says if you let yourself get k---- she will hate you forever and Arthur will cry. Mother and Father love you and Father says to be strong and remember what you are fighting for. Remember also that you have my heart. If you die, I die.  
All my love,  
Lissie

28th March, 1777  
My Beloved Lissie,  
I hope it will do you and your family well to know that I am getting stronger. Those weeks I trained and practiced have proven helpful now that I am actually doing what before was only practice. I am well. We are busy raiding British supply stores, and we are good at it. Having been an apprentice in a real store, I can recognize what containers are what, even in almost complete darkness. I want to prove myself to the Captain any way I can. Do not worry too much for me, pretty Lissie, I am doing better. I cling to what I'm fighting for. I hold to thoughts of you. Washington's men have had a horrible winter and so many good men have died. Lee is relentless in providing for us, and other men when he can. We are good foragers. I must close now, for duty calls. Tell Arthur to keep a stiff chin.  
All my love,  
Ben

24th April, 1777  
Dearest Ben,  
I miss you so much. News does not come often enough. William tried to climb the ladder to the hay loft in the barn and fell and broke his arm. He cried such a long time. Dr. Galt took care of his arm like he did mine when it got broke at the fair. He will be fine in no time. Father, Marcus and stay late at the store but will not say what they are doing. They look tired and dirty when they get home. I have sewn mayhaps fifty shirts. My French is frustrating, but Elizabeth does fine, even to her own surprise. Nan is desperate to learn the language and makes me repeat to her whatever I've learned (when I've managed to learn it). Arthur has enrolled at William and Mary, and says he will teach us girls whatever he learns because he believes knowledge is important for everyone. I think he just enjoys the way Elizabeth's eyes light up when he tells her things. Did I tell you that I missed you? Tis all too true.  
Missing you desperately,  
Your faithful Felicity

1st June, 1777  
My Lissie,  
I am so glad to hear about your doings at home. Aye, my patriot girl, I miss you as well. Tell William I hope his arm is healing well. I think of him often. Lee has purchased for us new saddles and pistols. We have done a great deal of fighting and have become quite a pain to the British, who find us annoying. We are continually patrolling enemy lines. It is getting hot and damp. A much belated Happy Birthday to you, Lissie. I thought of you on your special day. My love to all of you.  
Your faithful Ben

10th July, 1777  
Dear Ben,  
Are you well? Mr. Haverty says this will be a difficult summer, and I pray you and the others will not suffer. Tis already hot here like the baking oven. William's arm is coming along nicely. He says he feels like a big man, now that he has suffered a broken bone. is giving us a break from French so that we may practice our instruments. Elizabeth has taken to the spinet, and I my guitar. Arthur is learning French at the collage, as well as science, mathmatics and latin. Now that he is catching us up on the French, we can discuss how hard it is in its own language. My news is not exciting, but there you have it. Be well, my soldier.  
With love,  
Felicity

1st September, 1777  
Dear Lissie,  
I am well. Despite the heat and thick air, we still patrol, but we have had lots of action. Apparently, I shoot very well, and that is all I shall say about that. Much has happened, my girl. We have been to Bristol, which is north of Philadelphia, and there we acquired fresh horses. I had to bid a fond farewell to Grover, but my new mount and friend is a buckskin by the name of Tom. He is simple-named but eager and fast. The Captain was court-martialed in late August by those who are jelous of his youth and successes. Thankfully he was acquited. I do not know all of the details of it, but it does not matter. Washington is an intelligent man, he knows how great an asset Harry Lee is to our cause. And just a couple of days ago, Lissie, we rode into camp with a group of redcoat prisoners, I would say about twenty and five. Then we went back and captured some more! They sure did not know what hit them! We are fast and efficient, and I am grateful for my training. Old General Howe will never have a moment's peace!  
My saber has quickly become like an extension of my arm. Joshua and the Captain are right. It does get easier, slowly but surely. That is all I will say about that. Good luck with your French. If all goes well, you may need to use it before long. I must close now. I wish all of you well.  
Your servant,  
Ben

27th November, 1777  
Dearest Ben,  
I thought of you on your birthday. You are now nineteen, as I am twelve. We had chocolate cake in honor of you, but I could not enjoy it very much, for it tasted like salty tears. I miss you, Ben. There was some excitement earlier this month in Williamsburg. There was a parade to celebrate the defeat of General Burgoyne at Saratoga. There were drums, the city militia marched and cannons were fired. Nan did not care for the cannons, but you know that I was very excited. There were plenty of huzzas, I can tell you, and Father said there probably was not a keg of rum left in all of Williamsburg. Bruton Parish rang its bell. General T. Nelson came into the store and chatted with Father and a bit, and called me a pretty little Miss. But I am not little! When I told Mother what the General said, she just laughed and said as a matter of fact it would be best if I quit growing now. How about that? Give my best to Joshua and the Captain, and Tom the Horse as well.  
Your faithful Lissie

29th December, 1777  
Pretty Lissie,  
I wish I could see you for myself with my own eyes, and I could tell you if you are little or not! Tis your heart that is always growing. We are exhausted. Too tired to be cold. We must have crossed the Delaware eight or nine times. Perhaps twenty, it seemed. I lost count after five. We are at Valley Forge for awhile. We have captured I do not know how many redcoats, including a Captain of the Queen's Rangers. We had joined with good ol' General Greene for his aid and stayed at Haddonfield, which is close to Gloucester. On 23rd December we split up between Captain Harry and Captain Lindsay, who is quite skillful, but Captain Lee keeps me among his own men. But we captured ten redcoats and thirteen horses. We rescued two of our own captured men as well. It will be another hard winter. General Washington seems weary but determined. I miss you madly, Lissie. I hope there is more to celebrate soon. Eat all the chocolate you can for me, for I have had none in over a year. My God, tis been a year since I've seen you. Feels like longer. The rides are long and the horses are strong, but even they eventually feel the stress that bears on all of us. If not for the action we would think ourselves into a depression. But I think of you, and I am saved from that. Be strong for me, my Lissie.  
Love,  
Ben

Author's Note: According to my research, there really was a Joshua Davison in Lee's Legion. And get this: Joshua Davison is sometimes listed as Joshua DAVIDSON!


	2. The Letters of Felicity and Ben 1778

Felicity: An American Girl Romance, Part 2: The Letters of Felicity and Ben 1778

2nd February, 1778  
Dearest Ben,  
It is difficult to have begun another year without you. Are you well? We recently heard that Captain Lee had avoided capture by that rascal Captain Banastre Tarleton somewhere south of Valley Forge. We all adore Lee and Father is so proud of you, Ben. Please send news as soon as you can. The Patriot Ladies and I have been going door to door asking for donations to support the army. The people give whatever they can; money, old clothes, food supplies. Mr. Cole and Annabelle came to visit their family in January. The Cole family and the Pratt family have had several visits to one another's homes, and Elizabeth says in a year's time, she and Arthur will be allowed to court officially! She is in ecstasies, and Arthur nearly fainted from joy. You can just imagine, I am sure! Father and Marcus have been bringing wool from Grandfather's plantation; half of it goes to sell in the store, and the other half he gives to me and the ladies to make clothing with. I am busy at the store or my lessons, or working with the ladies, so Nan has become the young lady of the house. She wants to do everything a gentlewoman should do. Polly is now trying to toddle everywhere; she is nearly always under foot. William is her protector. They've become inseperatable, it is so dear! Big Brutus has become a father! He has sired a little black thing that bears his likeness, and once again Mr. Haverty has asked me to step in and see to his weaning when the time comes. He had not planned on breeding Brutus, because he said one of him is enough to deal with, but it happened. What do you expect when you have a field of horses that mingle? Everyone has been too pre-occupied to give it much thought. I shall keep you informed. Please, Ben, be safe out there and be warm. I am still with you.  
Your faithful Felicity

10th March, 1778  
Dearest Felicity,  
You are now being written to by Corporal Benjamin Davidson. As I am no longer a private in This Man's Cavalry, I must say my new rank has been a great confidence-booster. Captain Lee was highly acclaimed for his actions at the Spread Eagle Tavern, which is south of Valley Forge, as you had heard about. Tarleton will never have him, that is for certain! I was with Lee at Scott's Farm when the redcoats came. Indeed there were more of them than there were of us, but they knew not who they were dealing with! Lietenant Lindsay recieved a musket ball to the hand, but that was the worst of any wounds. I shot from my assigned window with trembling hands, but my aim proved successful. There was bascially no where for the redcoats to find cover in the yard before the house, making them easy marks. They tried to drive off our horses, too, but Lee would not have it. He said, 'Fire away, men, here comes our infantry, we'll have all!' And the redcoats fled like chickens before the wolves! Oh, Lissie, twas a glorious sight! We all had a good laugh at them--(twas here a wide-eyed seven-year-old William Merriman breathed, "Oh wow!") --all day long. We all know General Howe wants Lee dead, but they will not have him, and all the better for our side!  
As of now, our patrols have been reduced so that we may replenish our supplies. We go from farm to farm, seeing what can be spared from each. We don't like forcing anyone to hand over their horses, crops, or anything else, but we do not take more than what we need, nor do we take from poorer farms that have next to nothing. People give, though they are reluctant, and that is frustrating, because we are their army, fighting for their freedom. And then there are the deserters. Lee hates that more than anything! We have suffered trying winters and wretched summers, seen the blood and afflictions of the wounded and dying, and the ill, but our cavalry has been better off than other companies. Desertion is unacceptable. I wish everyone had your patriotic spirit, sweet Lissie. I am very proud of you and the work you are doing with the Patriot ladies. I wish I could see little Polly learn to walk. I miss you all terribly. Sometimes I feel like I'm fifty years old. Soon you will be thirteen and I long to see Arthur and Elizabeth. I wish them well. Indeed they are a fine match. Running out of ink, must go.  
Love to you all,  
CORPORAL Ben

1st May, 1778  
My Dearest Corporal Ben,  
We are so very proud of you, and thankful to God that you are safe and well. Tarleton will certainly not have our Major Lee, or you, for I refuse to give either of you up! So there! There seems to be a ball going on somewhere in Williamsburg all the time, every time there is word of a victory. We had a chocolate cake on my birthday and thought of you. Chocolate is becoming a rarity in Williamsburg now, since ships importing it are no longer allowed through. But chocolate is a small sacrifice to make for our freedom, and I can live without it. I think. Business at the store is slow, but Father says better slow than not at all. William has gotten good at riding. So good that he entered Penny in the young boys' horse race during the recent Publick Times and won a small pistol that Father says he will teach him how to use. Mother is not too keen on that idea, but Father says twill be important for him to know how to use it. Mother did not like that, either. But men will do whatever men must do. William thinks very highly of you. He has begun to help out at the store a bit off and on, now that he is getting older and has some physical strength about him. He loves spending as much time as he can down at Capitol Landing watching the boats and the fishermen. He absolutely LOVES the water! Mother does not like that, either. Keep yourself and our Captain Lee alive, my brave Corporal. You are in my thoughts and prayers as always.  
Your faithful Lissie

1st July, 1778  
My Dearest Lissie,  
Another change has occurred! On April of this year of Our Lord, Captain Lee was promoted to Major! And his command has been expanded to two troops, and now we are an independant corps! We are now known as Lee's Legion. Morale is at an all-time high. Lee asked me to stay on in his command, and of course I said yes. He is a great leader of men, a great soldier and a firm believer in the cause, and I will not desert him. My fellow Virginians, Captain Henry Peyton, George Handy, Pat Carnes, and Sergeant-Major John Champe, we are faithful to him. I love hearing about William. He must be growing like a weed. Will your father make him an apprentice? I can recall that he enjoyed the water very much. Mayhaps that is his calling. I had a dream of you last night, Lissie--('twas here that Felicity stopped reading aloud to her family)--of your green eyes and sweet smile. What a beauty you must be becoming, my Lissie. I hope to be granted a furlough before too long so that I may come home and see you. I read your diary cover to cover, near to memorizing every word. Be well and keep me in your thoughts!  
Your faithful Corporal,  
Ben

1st October, 1778  
Dearest Ben,  
September was nearly completely drenched. The roads were awful and we had a storm that was so awful that it took shingle off of our roof and the barn. Three of our chickens are gone and could not be found. Arthur and his family lost their goat Fernando, but I do not think Arthur is very much grieved! 's barn suffered enough damage so that the livestock got loose, and would you not guess that the next morning, we found Brutus, his mare, and his foal, whom we call Little Brutus, outside our barn! Hooray for Lee's Legion! We are always looking for news in the Gazette. And you are always in my thoughts, Ben. Always. I long for a sight of you. Missing you weighs on my heart. I keep busy constantly to keep from submitting to depression. I sew. I still loathe it, but I endure it because our men are enduring far worse. Keep faith, my brave soldier.  
Your faithful Lissie

25th December, 1778  
Dear Lissie,  
There is much to tell and I must hurry. We have new uniforms. They are short coats of dark green with red linings and white breeches. Needless to say, we are a strapping bunch. Joshua says we are a _damn fine lot_. Major Lee was kept under arrest until late September by those who claim that he disobeyed orders but the charges did not stick. There are so many of his superiors who are jealous. They say General Washington is too lenient with him, too favoring. All lies. The General just knows who is an asset! We have been the General's guards, Lissie, he knows who he can rely on. Anyway, earlier in September we ambushed the Jaegers below Tarrytown, and we did not lose a single man. But the Hessians are skilled and rough. We've done a great deal of of patrolling, harassing, and plundering. We are wintering in Burlington, New Jersey at Somerset Court House. I am thankful none of you were hurt in the September storm. Another winter is coming and I dread it. Not for the cold (mostly) but for the lonliness. It has been so long, Lissie. I am still hoping for a furlough soon. Take care, my pretty girl.  
Yours truly,  
Ben

CHAPTER FINISHED!


	3. The Letters of Felicity and Ben 1779

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE Part 2--The Letters of Felicity and Ben--1779

3rd February, 1779  
Dear Ben,  
Please do beware of the Hessians! We have heard that they do indeed fight mean! Tis terrible to think that Major Lee would be harassed by his own superiors! Is there not enough to worry about with the British? Speaking of Patriots, I must not forget to tell you this time that I have succussfully managed to train Patriot! He is as fast as Penny, and such a beautiful horse. He still loves to play games. He did not fight the saddle and bit, but to him it was a game. I kept Penny beside him. Twas as if she was telling him that there was nothing to be afraid of in their unspoken horse-language. Sadly, our Blossom died. She was such a gentle, sweet soul, always happy to help us humans. Old Bess misses her most, I think. William and Nan have colds, so tis only a short matter of time before the rest of us get it as well. Stay warm and well, yourself, Corporal Davidson.  
Thinking of you always,  
Felicity

15th May, 1779  
Dear Felicity,  
I know it has been a while since I've last written, but ink has been hard to come by, as are quills, but I now possess both once again. Men have started calling the Major 'Light Horse Harry'. He doesn't mind. We joke that the lobster backs have some far worse names for him than that! We were on parade for the popular French minister to the colonies, Conrad Alexander Gerard in Trenton in April. We preceeded General Washington and carried on exercises for his enjoyment. I wish you could be here to use your French, Lissie. The Frenchies were very impressed by the Legion and it would have been interesting to hear what they were saying about us. We are back to training again, as we have not much else to do. Hope you are well and have not suffered a bad cold. I had one all through April and it hurt to even swallow spit. Take special care of yourself, my girl.  
Love,  
Ben  
P.S. A much belated but Happy Fourteenth Birthday!

22nd June, 1779  
Dear Ben,  
I have such shocking news. The Virginia Hose of Delegates made a decision to move the capitol to Richmond! Not right away, of course, but the process has begun. They think it will be safer there. Father thinks it is a big mistake. Everyone is stunned stupid. Outraged, in fact. What will this mean for Williamsburg? I have never before heard Father swear, but when he did, Mother did not chide him.  
Nan is loving her lessons with Ms. MAnderly. Nan is a gentlewoman through and through. Polly already knows the names of all the flowers in my garden, thanks to her very best friend William, when he is not down at the river. Arthur and Elizabeth are officially courting, but that does not surprise anyone. Father makes trips to King's Creek twice a week now, and when any of us but Mother ask what he is doing, he says to never us mind, and winks at us. Father has been most mysterious for quite some time now. I shall close now, for it is time for me to go meet with the Patriot Ladies. We have a great deal of wool to comb.  
Yours truly,  
Lissie

25th August, 1779  
Dear Lissie,  
I am shocked just as you are to hear about the capitol being moved. All of us from Virginia are. There are some fellows here from Richmond who think it is a bad idea also. Surely Williamsburg will endure. Please keep me informed when you can, my patriot girl. We've been to Middlebrook, then north to Pomton, and from there on to the east bank of the Hudson River, in Orange County, New York. Tis below West Point. We came close to the fighting at Stony Point, but did not engage in the bulk of it. General Anthony Wayne is called Mad, but I think he is a brilliant soldier, an incredible leader. He's afraid of nothing! He recieved a small head wound but, but that is nothing to a man like him. Soon after Stony Point, however, we raided Paulus Hook and made a thorough job of it! I tell you, Lissie, it didn't even take an hour. I have gotten to where any anxiety I feel before battle is gone once the battle begins. I am not even aware of my own being. I just plunge right in, and only when the fight is over do I see what has been done. What I have done. We took a great many prisoners. I have also had the pleasure of meeting the Marquis de Lafayette, and I tell you he is as good, if not better, than one of our own. The ladies adore him, though he is not much for looks, but his charm and his personality make him irresistable to everyone. As for our Major Lee, he ordered a deserter to be hung earlier in September. In my opinion, desertion is as bad as being a traitor. Continue the good work that you do with the Patriot ladies, my girl. It is greatly appreciated. I miss you terribly.  
Your servant,  
Ben

3rd October, 1779  
Dear Ben,  
We heard about the successes at Stony Point and Paulus Hook. I worried madly about you. I made you a ginger cake on your twenty first birthday since we do not have chocolate. What do you look like now? It's been so long since I've seen you! You are on my mind constantly, Ben. I do hope you remember that. Polly continues to grow like a little garden. She has very red hair like me and blue eyes like Father. She follows William around nearly everywhere. Elizabeth said that Annabelle has become engaged to a British lieutenant stationed in New York where she and Mr. Cole are living. His name is Basil Crumb, and he is the son of an earl. Somehow, that does not surprise me. Anyway, according to Annabelle's letter to Elizabeth, he has brown eyes and brown hair. Somehow that does not surprise me either. Like all couples becoming engaged these days, they are waiting for the war to end before they marry. I pray you are well, Ben, in mind and in body. I am still with you.  
Yours truly,  
Felicity

25th December, 1779  
Dearest Lissie, First, I must say congratulations to Annabelle on her engagement to Lieutenant Crumb. I hope I do not have to meet him in battle. He has probably heard of Lee's Legion, and if he's smart, he will not tempt us! We were stationed in Monmouth County in New Jersey. I feel like there is not a single acre in all of New Jersey that we have not seen. We closely watched the British fleet in New York harbor and, of course, foraged. We're close to the Monmouth battlefield. On several occasions I've played cards with the Major, and he always wins. But then I would expect nothing else, and Major Lee says maybe someday I'll beat him, but we both doubt it. Ha! This year is coming to an end and I wonder about all of you. Are you well? I assume the young lads are flocking to your door to court you, Lissie. I do not blame them, but I envy them. I know I asked you to wait for me, my pretty girl, and I feel the guilt of it. You are not obliged to me, but I still wish somehow I could see you and talk to you. My heart longs for you and your smile, your voice. I cannot look at a copper-colored horse without thinking of you, or anything red for that matter. Give my best to your family.  
Your servant,  
Ben


	4. The Letters of Felicity and Ben 1780

The Letters of Felicity and Ben 1780

5th February, 1780  
Dear Ben,  
Do not go worrying yourself about my gentleman callers, Ben Davidson! I am only on the edge of fifteen, you know. Elizabeth and Arthur are engaged to be married, and we had a party for them. They will not marry until the war is over. Good Lord, Ben, how much longer will it go on? Will you ever get to come home for a visit? I dream that I have nearly forgotten what you look like. I see your brown eyes clearly, though. You seem so very far away, and time can be as cruel as it is slow. I know you have not forgotten what you are fighting for. I still believe in you, Ben. I hope you still believe in you as well.  
Keeping you close,  
Felicity

15th June, 1780  
Dear Felicity,  
Forgive me for not having written in months, but I have been very ill for some time. Beginning in early March, just when Lee finally obtained leave for us who have been serving under him the longest. I was not gone from camp very long when my friend and I both became violently ill with bouts of very dark vomit. I am so sorry, Lissie. I was on my way back to Williamsburg to spend a couple of weeks with you and your family, but I could not help what happened to me. My friend and I were taken in by a farming family outside of Monmouth. They made beds for us in their barn and tended to us. Word was sent to Major Lee, and he asked the family, who are the Dupres, if they would keep us until we were well. They were very good to us, Lissie. Without their kindness I know we would have died. The patriot spirit is alive and well with the Dupres. Because of them I have found my belief again. When you are sick and cannot keep fluid in your body, you tend to think the worst of everything. I really thought it was the end of me. I know my friend Corporal Frankie Darnell thought the same thing. I am still not entirely well, but I am getting my strength back gradually. Time is indeed cruel, as you said in your last letter. I feel like it has been one hundred years since I've seen you. I remember your eyes, Lissie, and I feel warm inside again. Frankie and I both feel like we have left our insides at the Dupres farm. As they are a mainly French family, they have a son serving under Lafayette, and are missing him terribly. In the meantime, the Legion and I are on our way to Easton, Pennsylvania. Keep me in your prayers, Lissie. Mayhaps I will have another chance to come home yet again. My love to you all!  
Ben

25th August, 1780  
My Dear Ben,  
What an awful fright you have given us! First, it was months before we heard from you, then we learn that you have been severely ill! My Lord, Ben, we nearly lost you! Can you not be given time to come home now? Have you not endured enough? I have wept for you, prayed for you, as we all have. I fear that we are losing you now. Thank the Lord above the Dupres family was kind enough to take care of you and your friend. Please take care of yourself, Ben, we still need you. We still want you back. You have a promise to father to keep. he is still expecting you to keep it. What news have I to tell that matters now? It all pales in comparison to you being ill. My news was that Richmond has officially become the new capitol of Virginia as of seventh April, but I no longer care. Come home to us soon, Ben.  
Your faithful Felicity

15th October, 1780  
Dear Felicity,  
By now everyone must know that General Benedict Arnold has betrayed our country. He nearly turned West Point over to the British! He should be hung or shot in the head or burned alive, like they used to do to witches! General Greene says he does not know which is Washington is more of, angered or saddened. Thank you, Felicity, for your sweet letter. I am so sorry to make you and your family worry so much. I long to see all of you. I am thinking it does not matter where the capitol is now, for all the south may really be in for it. Lee expects us to be ordered south any day now. He believes the worst is yet to come. Be vigilant, Lissie, and be ready. Stock supplies and tell the Coles and the Pratts to do the same. I do not know what is going to happen from one moment to the next, but I must know that you and your family will be safe and prepared.  
Your servant,  
Ben

5th November, 1780  
Dear Felicity,  
I must write quick, long enough to tell you that we are headed south as fast as possible to join in with General Greene, whom I greatly admire. Lee will be his Cheif of Cavalry, and he has been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. I have been given the rank of Captain now, Lissie. Can you believe it? Lee says I've proven myself a most valueable soldier, that I've come far and sacrificed much. He claims me and the most loyal of his men as brothers. I feel we are indeed that. I cannot ask to leave him now, not when things are becoming crucial. We feel the battles in the south will decide the fate of this war. Washington feels it, so do Generals Greene and Marion. I am very eager to meet and serve alongside of General Marion, whom they call the Swamp Fox. I do not know when and if I'll get to write to you again, Lissie, so pray for me and keep me in your thoughts.  
Always your servant,  
Ben

CHAPTER FINISHED


	5. Ch1: Ben At War

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Part 2, CH 1: Ben At War

February 25, 1781

Captain Davidson was as tense as a mountain lion about to pounce upon a goat. The late February air was cool, not cold, in his opinion. But he was actually too strained to feel anything but ready to explode. He was riding a dark brown stallion by the name of Molasses, his third mount in a little over four years of cavalry service. His sharp brown eyes, skilled at noticing the smallest details, were fixed intensely upon his superior officer, the youthful and daring Lieutenant Colonel Lee. Lee was something of a celebrity in the colonies. The redcoats hated him. Patriots adored him. Some among Lee's own superiors were sore jelous of him. His own men loved him-they'd blindly follow him directly into hell if only he'd give the word. Everyone called him 'Light Horse' Harry Lee.

Lee was clever, bold, arrogant, charming, and harsh. He hung or shot deserters as an example meant for discouraging others. He had the best mind for executing battle plans that his young Captain had seen thus far. 'Twas at this very moment that Lee was carrying out one of his audacious plans, and young Captain Davidson was but a horse behind his colonel, tensed for action.

Lee was leading his horsemen in a column up the dirt road before _at least _four hundred mounted militiamen on their right. Lee smiled slyly, and his posture in the saddle was quite relaxed. In fact, the dashing Lieutenant Colonel seemed almost..._smug_. He nodded acceptingly at the mounted militiamen he was 'reviewing' as he passed.

Damned if he didn't look and act just like Banastre Tarleton.

Eyes fastened on the Lt. Colonel, Captain Davidson's leather glove-clad left hand rested upon the polished brass spiral hilt of his short sword at his left hip almost reassuringly, as if the sabre was a living thing that was so anxious for action that it could jump right out of it's sheath of its own accord, and required guidance to remain still.

The wait would not be but half at minute more.

Ah, yes, the column of Legion cavalry was a grand sight to behold, in their tight green jackets and white leather breeches, boots polished slick, steel helmets looking brilliantly new with black horse-hair plumes carried high. Aye, they were the very ddefinition of pride. Each and every cavalryman had the air of deadly seriousness about him, Captain Davidson included. They were Lt. Colonel Lee's best. They were diciplined, accomplished veterens of battle and stryfe. They were damn good and they knew it.

They were Lee's Legion, by God.

As Lt. Colonel Lee's magnificent copper stallion came up to the black horse of the colonel Lee was about to address, Captain Davidson's brown hawk-eyes narrowed. His begloved right hand slid unnoticed to replace his left around the sword hilt. His grip was very tight. He took the reins in his left hand and tensed, drew in his breath. No doubt his fellow cavalrymen were doing the same. he spared his hardened gaze from his Colonel's back just long enough to assess who was on his right-the mounted militiamen, of course.

Christ, this was going to be easy.

The other colonel, John Pyle, was beaming and gushing most joyfully...leaning forward in his saddle, extending his _Loyalist _hand to shake that of his countryman, _Banastre Tarleton_... And ever so warmly, Colonel Lee extended his own hand, gripped it, shook it...

That was the sign. As many others in the legion did, Captain Davidson's short sword was whipped out with a sharp _shhing! _sound as the Captain whirled his horse to the right and slashed at the startled mounted Loyalist nearest to him, diagonally and deeply across the militiaman's chest so fast that the white strap the man's musket hung on was cut. Cries went up on both sides; the Legions' were ones of battle, the Loyalists' were ones of shock and horror.

Not even registering that his first victim had toppled off of his horse, Captain Davidson urged Molasses into the scattering, rearing Loyalist militiamen, plunged his sword onto the first loyalist he came upon, withdrew it with a grimace. His mind and body were separated. All he knew was to act, to react, to swing, thrust, slice, block and charge. These things he did with most deadly accuracy, as he'd had a little over four years of practice and many enemies to practice _on_. In battle he had ceased to be a man; he became manic.

When he drove his glistening saber into the chest or spine of the enemy, he had long ceased to be horrified by his own actions, ceased to be nauseated by the 'ulk!' his enemies heaved when his blade drove into them and the spewing blood that followed upon his yanking it back out. He had long ago ceased the terrified notion to tell his enenmy "I'm sorry!" even as he slashed them.

Captain Davidson wasn't sorry anymore.

Mounted upon Molasses he took full advantage of the panic-stricken Loyalists. A young man who'd just unsheathed his sword too late found himself falling backwards off of his horse when gashed across the neck by the already blood slicked sword of the young Captain. The dying, falling man wasn't even aware that Davidson had snatched the sword from his hand. He was fast dead before he hit the ground. And the Patriot Captain that had felled him was already on to his next victim, slashing like a mad man at the unsuspecting militiamen who did not have the chance to try and block him. The Captain could only see white flashing before his eyes as he took one man after another.

Captain Davidson whirled Molasses about, crammed his reins into his mouth, and spurred the nostril-flaring animal into a gallop. Bearing a sword in each hand, the young Captain barrelled into a wheeling cluster of mounted Loyalists. His short sabers went _whick_, slicing through leather, the cotton fabrics of clothing, Loyalist flesh...he heard the yell of his Lt. Colonel's voice. Captain Davidson brought his horse up short, momentarilly returning to his senses. The Loyalists were fleeing into the woods, fleeing for their lives. Davidson dropped the dead loyalist's saber he'd been using, whipped his loaded flintlock out of his holster and prepared to fire after them, but he registered that Lee was hollering orders not to persue them. Let them go.

"Woo-Hoo!" one of Captain Davidson's fellow cavalrymen shouted somewhere close to him. "Look at 'em run! They'll have nightmares tonight, I'll wager! Like lambs to the slaughter!"

Slaughter, indeed.

His chest heaving, young Captain Davidson looked about him, around his fellow Legionnaires. Then his breathing seemed to suspend itself as his narrowed brown eyes took in the bloody scene all around him.

Recently recruited Loyalist militiamen lay, it seemed, everywhere. Slashed, gutted...limbless...Decapitated. Some of the dead bodies had been trampled by Legion horse hooves. Spilled blood of those who had not had time to defend themselves was already turning black on the grass. A few Loyalist horses stood meekly by their dead riders' bodies with lowered heads.

Good God.

Captain Davidson lowered his raised saber-arm. Not all of the downed militiamen were dead; there were a few absent groans from some, most likely from men who were in the process of dying or were in so much pain that they no longer cared what happened to them. In the past two years the young captain had become nearly numb to the devastation he could cause with his weapon. He could kill and walk away feeling superior to all, because he had that strutting swagger that was so common in those living daymares that were called Lee's Legion, and they were mean and relentless, a thorn in the ass of the British, which they prided themselves on mightily.

But these men didn't fight back. They didn't have time to. 'Twas one thing to charge and attack an enemy who was charging at you with the full intention of kabobbing you upon his sword, but goring a man who wasn't armed for defence, who had been decieved into thinking he was among allies? _That _was quite another! All of this, this..._butchering_, had been so easy. So quick. So...not right. He'd followed the orders of his superior, as good soldiers were supposed to do. He had asked no questions, had not given second thought to the plan. Always before there was the thrill of victory, that feeling of cocky superiority, the eagerness to go forth and slay more redcoats in the name of Liberty. Suddenly, it occurred to the young Captain that those ego-inflating feelings were not there.

As he stared at the human devastation around him, he became aware of one of his fellow captains riding up beside of him. "Didn't think it would be _this _easy," the young man said to him. "What the hell did we just do?" There was the _shiink _sound of a sword being resheathed, then the man sighed. "I didn't think there would be so much-Oh, good shit, Davidson, do something about that, will you?"

"Huh?" Captain Davidson was startled out of his post-manic daze. "About what?"

"Your face." The cavalryman fumbled inside his jacket pocket and hastily yanked out his hankerchief, handed it to Captain Davidson. "You have blood-splatter." The young man prodded his horse on.

Without thinking, the young Captain licked his dry lips...the taste of blood was on them, and it wasn't his own. He gritted his teeth and wiped his face furiously on the hankerchief. He swallowed uneasily. Around him, the mumers of disturbed conversations continued to meet Captain Davidson's ears...

"This fellow's still alive."

"Not for much longer, he aint."

"Where's his arm?"

"Hell if I know."

"Any idea where the head of that one went?"

"Towards the woods, I reckon."

The young Captain urged his horse away from the unnerving talk, and sought out his superiors. Lt. Colonel Lee was talking with with General Andrew Pickens, who had emerged from the woods with his hardened South Carolina militiamen. Orders were given. Lee called for the Legion to regroup. They would be leaving the wounded where they lay. They would not be pursuing Colonel John Pyle's scattered men. They were to pursue Banastre Tarleton.

Young Captain Davidson was quick to notice Lee's voice, how it was thick and edged with discomfort. Not like the usual haughty, cocky sound it carried after a victory. He wore no expression of triumph, no slanted smile of arrogant pride. Lt. Colonel Harry Lee looked sunk in thought, quietly disturbed. _Mayhaps_, thought Captain Davidson dejectedly, _he feels as most of us seem to. This was no victory. This was...wrong. _Upon Molasses, he fell into the column formation with the others. There was very little talking among the men of the Legion. Some were still surveying in shock the results of their trickery, others refused to take last looks. _The__ redcoats would have done the same to us, _Davidson thought, in a feeble attempt to justify their-his-actions. _They would have pretended they were Lee's Legion_, _then turned on us without any warning..._  
Still those thoughts brought no comfort, no ease, no nothing. His conscience, which in the past couple of years he had been at odds with, was trying to return with nagging intensity. They were leaving behind men who were still alive, in need of help. Men dying who couldn't be helped, but yet...Good Lord, what had they done? What would General Washington think or do when he found out?

The dead needed to be buried...

_They would have done the same to us._

_That does not make it right._

_No. Mayhaps not._

Young Captain Benjamin Davidson felt cold all over, and it had nothing to do with it being late February.


	6. Ch2: The Rose of Williamsburg

Disclaimer-thingie-time again. I own nothing. I know nothing. Never assume both.

March 1781

She was by far a stunning beauty. Of course, she would never believe it if she was told so to her face. She would most likely laugh it away with that clear, high-spirited laugh of hers and shake her head. A head that was full of vibrant red hair, red as trees in autumn. A perfect color of hair for someone so full of life and energy she still, even closing in on her sixteenth birthday, could not be kept indoors for very long. Oh nay, indeed not, for more than ever she felt the longing of the woods and the fields and the sky, and more than ever her restless spirit longed to embrace freedom. Her heart was as big as the outdoors itself, her will just as strong as a certain plowhorse. Her father still called her his wild child. Her mother still attempted to get her to settle down and be still. Neither parent truly expected her to do either.

March was the windy month, the month in which spring began, and on a gentle but breezy morning in the latter part of that month, the vivacious fifteen-soon-to-be-sixteen year old Felicity Merriman was out at the crack of dawn, riding her beloved copper-colored mare Penny across the greening fields near her home. Her red cloak billowed out behind her, as did her loosened mane of crimson locks, as Penny streaked energetically from one end of the field to the other.

At Penny's left flank galloped shiny black Patriot, her grown but youthful foal, being ridden by a young lad of the age of eight. The boy had neck-length red hair, a darker red than his older sister's, and sparkling blue eyes like his father. He was William Merriman, Felicity's younger brother and fellow horse-enthusiast. He grinned and shook his head as they slowed at the far end of the field.

"Ha!" exclaimed Felicity exuberantly, turning her dancing mare about so that she could grin back at her little brother. "Still the fastest!"

William's smile was almost an exact replica of his sister's. "But only by half a horse! I was gaining, you know."

"Oh indeed," agreed Felicity, rolling her eyes in amusement. "Why, if not for the fence, you would have bested me for certain!"

"I would've!"

They watched their horses as they touched noses affectionately. "Shall we race home?" young William asked eagerly. The thing he loved most about his big sister was that she could ride better than any male. She'd taught him how to ride, and she could do just about anything else a boy could do. Almost. She made doing anything out of doors fun.

Felicity gave Penny's neck a vigorous rub. "Nay, little brother, for I beleive we've given these two a good enough workout for now. You can get the better of me tomorrow morning!"

"Fear not!"

Felicity laughed heartily. The two Merriman siblings turned their horses for home, easing into a walk that would help their energized mounts cool down. William glanced at his sister before saying, "Guess you better fix your hair back, Lissie, before Mother sees you and goes into spasms."

"Oh. You're right, Will." Penny continued to walk beside of Patriot as Felicity pulled her wild red hair into a ponytail, tied it up with the black ribbon she had stashed in her petticoat pocket along with her wadded mobcap, which she then proceeded to cram back on her head with both hands.

They came onto Duke of Gloucester Street. The elms lining their home street were forming buds that would very soon become leaves. People were stirring; opening windows from inside, drawing water from their wells, carrying food from their kitchens into their houses. Most who saw the Merriman siblings waved or nodded to them. A young man who was helping his father carry wood into their house stopped walking when he saw Felicity, and stared in awe at her as she and William passed by. The young man dropped his armfull of firewood, which unfortunately dropped upon his father's nearest foot. The father hollored madly and hopped about on his remaining good foot, and swore aloud the boy was going to get a good switching for his absent-mindedness.

Felicity and William looked at each other and snickered.

'Twas very well known that Felicity Merriman was the lovliest young lady in all of Williamsburg. One of the most alluring things about her was the fact that she totally disbelived that fact. To her, it was pure ridiculousness. She had already turned down at least five would-be suitors, much to her mother's astonishment and her father's amusement. Father still held fast to her being officially sixteen before he would allow her to be courted...if she wished to be courted.

Father could see that his eldest daughter's heart belonged elsewhere.

The proof of that still hung from a black cord around her slender, graceful neck. A soldier's signal whistle. She was never seen without it. It rested, as always, against well-developed breasts, day and night, in sleeping as in waking. Instinctively, she would grip it in her hands when her mind had wandered off to somewhere...or to someone, rather, and her emerald green eyes would mist over with emotion, the expression on her faerie-like face would turn distant...Only her family and two best friends would then know who she was thinking about.

Ben Davidson. Like now.

As if eight-year-old William could sense her thoughts, he asked aloud, "When do you suppose we will hear from Ben again?"

"I-I don't know, Will," she replied softly, feeling her heart grow heavy with worry. "The Legion is very busy now. Fighting in the South..." Without thinking, she touched the signal whistle tenderly.

"I wish I could remember him better," William told her with a sigh. "I see only blurry pictures in my head. I know he has brown hair and brown eyes...and he played soldiers with me sometimes." He thought as hard as he could, crinkling his mouth the way Felicity did when she was deep in concentration. "He was quiet, for the most. He liked chocolate, didn't he?"

"Aye, he did." Felicity smiled at that. "I would very well wager that he still does."

"I wish I could be a soldier." William straightened in his saddle. "But I would serve in General Washington's navy! I would be the best sailor-soldier on the water!"

Felicity giggled. "So you keep saying! 'Tis a good thing you cannot run off to Washington's navy, little brother, because Mother would collapse from worry!"

"I know," sighed William.

"And what of Polly? She would be ever so lonely without you." William half-smiled. "I would have to see that she would be all right before I went to sea. But Polly would understand, though. She knows I long to be a sailor." He looked at Felicity and tilted his chin up with a grin. "She's too much like you to be depressed for long."

_That _was a complement! Felicity grinned back at him. "God love her, she sure is! Because of you and me, Will, she'll never be the gentlewoman our Nan is! Poor Mother will only have one proper gentlewoman out of three daughters. And as for you, Father would so love to have you take over the store one day. It will take time for him to accept your becoming a sailor."

"What about you, Lissie?" William anxiously wanted to know. "Can you accept it?" He and Polly looked up to their eldest sister, for she was the free-spirit, the one who encouraged them to dream. The one they ran to when Mother or Father told them no about something. The fun sister, the brave one.

"Aye, Will, of course I can. 'Tis your dream, is it not?" When her brother nodded most vigorously, she said, "Well then, there you are. I've always believed part of loving someone with all of your heart included letting them follow their own path in life."

"Like you love Ben?"

Felicity turned nearly as red as her hair.

William cocked his head, trying to see her face, for it had turned suddenly aside. "I mean, you loved him so much that you let him go be a soldier even though it meant he might not come back...that he still might not-Oh, blast, Lissie, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! I meant-"

"It's all right, Will." She looked at him again, her expression soft, her smile understanding. "I know what you mean. We're home now. Let's go eat."

Another likeable thing about big sister Felicity was that she was easy to talk to. She always gave her younger siblings her attention, listened to whatever they had to say and respected their opinions. She always tried to treat people the way she wanted to be treated, as she had been taught to, but it was not always easy to do that in a world where the majority was ever trying to impose their expectations on you.

Especially on girls.

But Felicity wasn't like other girls. She was too spirited to do what was expected of her, even when she tried to. When Mother and Nan were talking to William about how arguments were best solved with patience and a clear head, Felicity rolled her eyes, and later that evening, took her little brother out to the barn and showed him how to beat the stuffing out of a sack of oats. 'Twas his and Felicity's secret (one of many, anyway), and she showed him how to use his fists as Ben had done for her when she had been only ten years old. "But you're a girl!" protested William, who had been six at the time, astonished and awed at how hard and fast his big sister could pummel the defenseless sack with her own small fists.

"So?" challenged Felicity back at him with a grin. "Am I not still a human being? Do I not have the right to defend myself?" "Well...yes..."

She had given him a sly smile. "And if a clear head and patience doesn't work...?"

Six- year old William had grinned broadly then. "Teach me!" And so, using the same encouraging words and actions Ben had used with her, society-defiant Felicity Merriman taught her little brother how to hit, and in so doing, utterly won over his developing opinion about girls.

The two Merriman siblings let their horses out ot graze in the small meadow behind the barn and went to the kitchen behind their house, where they were greeted by their mother, who had just made fresh hot cornbread with the help of their black house servant, Rose. The smell of it was an irresistable assault on the nose. There was a pitcher of buttermilk and a plate of sliced ham. William plopped down on the bench at the preparation table and snatched up a square of cornbread as Felicity kissed her mother on the cheek and grabbed up a square herself.

"Felicity Merriman!" her mother scolded, although smiling, "that is not the way a young gentlewoman behaves in her own kitchen!"

"Oh but Mother," Felicity pleaded, her grin wide, "I've ridden up such an appetite, and the cornbread you and Rose make is simply to die for!" "Mmm-Hmm!" agreed William, his mouth full.

"Oh, hush, you two," Rose reprimanded with a smile.

Mrs. Merriman retrieved plates from their standing cabinet as Rose poured them buttermilk. "A healthy appetite is fine, Lissie, but at nearly sixteen you should know better than to dance about with your food." She gave Felicity a stern, motherly look-the one with her left eyebrow cocked.

Felicity plooped down beside William and accepted the plate of delicious food her mother handed to her. "What better reason is there for dancing than fresh, hot cornbread?"

"Fresh hot pie!" replied a grinning William, before anyone else could.

Rose laughed. To Mrs. Merriman she said, "If you think about it, Mz. Martha, your apple pie does make a body a might giddy!"

Martha Merriman smiled slyly, thinking of how to best respond to that, when an enthusiastic, nearly six year old Polly Merriman trotted in, her cheeks flushed pink and her mobcap crooked atop a head of flaming red hair like her eldest sister's, done up in bouncy ringlets. She looked very much like a mini-Felicity, and much to Mrs. Merriman's chagrin, acted like a mini-Felicity as well. This lively second coming of her oldest sister skipped to the table and wiggled in between Felicity and William boldly, much to the delight of her siblings, and said "Good morning. Oooo, cornbread! Might I have some?"

"You had better, Miss Rabbit," Rose told her, using Polly's well-earned nickname, "before Miss Lissie and Mr. William eat it all up!"

"There you are, you silly rabbit-child!" This came from thirteen year-old Nan Merriman, appearing in the doorway, hands on her hips, her porcelan face wearing an annoyed yet amused expression. "You just couldn't hold still one moment for me to finish fixing your cap properly!"

"I was hungry!" Polly whined with her mouth full. Both she and William were swinging their legs under the table in sync.

Nan shook her head as she went to the other side of the kitchen to help her mother and Rose clean up the baking remnants. "Well, eat then, and afterwards I'll straighten it up for you. Do stop swinging your legs, Polly. 'Tis unladylike."

Polly sighed irritably. "I'm not a lady, I'm a girl. You sound like Mother."

"And Mother is a lady. You don't see her swinging her legs under the table, do you?"

"Oh, Nan," Polly said impatiently. "My feet don't reach the floor!"

Mrs. Merriman elbowed Nan gently. "Best let this one go, dear. She'll stop swinging when William does, or her legs get tired."

Nan chuckled. With perfect posture and ease, she fixed a plate of food for herself and for her mother, beckoned for Rose to sit down and join them. As she sat down across from Felicity, she smiled at her oldest sister, who was chewing on some ham with quite a bit of vigor. "Rode up an appetite, Lissie?"

"Indeed!" Felicity said cheerfully, fighting the impulse to swing her own legs, although her feet reached the floor. "I do wish you would join us some times, Nan."

Nan smiled brightly. "The thought is awfully appealing, really it is. But I don't think I could handle a horse the way you do."

"We could teach you!" said William, warming instantly to the idea. Nan giggled. "Sweet William, I shall keep it in mind!"

She and Felicity exchanged a smile. Though Nan and Felicity were different in nature, they both adored their younger brother and sister very much. The past four years had seen the elder sisters grow close, to the point of doing each other's hair, sewing each other's clothes, taking turns caring for Polly and William, the latter of which was a blessing for thier mother, who was allowed more free time for herself. It had been obvious that Felicity was not the proper gentlewoman Nan had obviously become, but there was a bond, deeply-rooted in family and in sisterhood that was stronger than any difference in their personalities.  
Felicity was proud of Nan. She, too, had begun to attract the young lads. Nan was absolutely lovely, having indeed inherited their mother's beauty (as had Felicity), her hair a reddish blonde now, her eyes sapphire blue, like Grandfather's had been, her figure perky and petite. Though not as tall as Felicity, Nan still carried herself with pride and elegance. She was sensible, loving, skeptic and observant, but, being a Merriman, she was still prey to bouts of misheviousness like the rest of them. Felicity loved her dearly.

"Lissie," Mrs. Merriman said, as she had observed her eldest daughter becoming finished with her breakfast plate, "your father wants you down at the store as soon as you can get there. He and Marcus will be leaving for King's Creek as soon as you and Mr. Haverty come in."

Felicity crinkled her mouth. "I do wish Father would tell us what he's been up to for so long! When he closed the store for an entire week last summer he wouldn't even say why!"

"Truly!" agreed Nan. "If there was something he wanted to keep secret, would her not trust us to keep his confidence?"

"Now girls," Mrs. Merriman said to them mindfully, "your father knows what he's doing. If he wanted to tell you he would, and he will tell you when he deems it time to." "Yes, Mother," Felicity and Nan replied as one. But the sisters looked at each other, a look that said they knew there was more to this than even their mother would admit to. Their father told their mother everything. If Father asked Mother not to tell their children something, then by crackety, he would not.

Felicity finished her breakfast, straightened Polly's mabcap as a favor to Nan, and snatched up her sunhat on her way to Merriman's Store. It was such a beautiful, early spring day. How could anyone have a problem on a day like this? How could there be a war raging when spring was just beginning, when life was being renewed?

And like magic, her thoughts went to Ben Davidson.

_Ben_, _who was now a Captain in Lee's Legion_. _Captain_, she thought incrdulously, a smile warming her still very pixie-ish face. _Never imagined THAT! Ben_, _my father's apprentice_, _MY Ben_, _would be a CAPTAIN in the service of such a celebrated leader as our Harry Lee! Oh_, _Ben_, _where are you now_? _What are you doing right at this moment_? Like magic, her hand flew to the signal whistle hanging on its cord. It had been a little over four years since she had seen him last. In the beginning, it had been hard, so very hard, to continue her daily life with the knowledge that her dearest friend was going to war and that she might not ever see him again. Ever.

The day he had left she had spent hours in sobbing sadness. For a year she had cried off and on, mostly in private, where she could best cherish her memories of her brave Ben. Indeed, time made his being gone easier to bear, but she missed him no less. She had kept busy with her sewing for the patriot army, her lessons with dear Ms. Manderly, and her pitching in at the store. She spent time with her siblings, with her two best friends, Elizabeth Cole and Arthur Pratt. But at night, when she was forced to be still and quiet, her eyes teared up and she felt Ben's absence like the weight of an anvil upon her.  
In her dreams he looked the same; eighteen, tall, skinny...youthfully handsome with soft brown eyes that made her hearty go flippity-flop, a modest, deep-thinking expression of someone innocent to the horrors and reality of war. In her mind and in her dreams the young apprentice was the same. Of course she understood that in a little over four year's time he would not look the same. It was just so hard to imagine him older!

What DID he look like now?

Captain..._Captain _Davidson of Lee's Legion. Would he be so drastically different? Would nearly five years of fighting, killing, bloodshed and hardship utterly change the boy who had so sweetly given her her first kiss? Oh, how she thought happily about those immature, mischevious stolen kisses! She could still feel his soft eager lips, puckered and pushing against her own, his hands gripping her shoulders as if he'd been afraid she would slip away from his hold...which she never had. Surely his heart would be the same!

Wouldn't it?

Felicity Merriman pressed the signal whistle against her rose-colored stomacher as she walked. She, too, had changed. _Sort of_, she thought, in her self-nit-picking way. She was a tall young woman, her hair just as vibrant as ever, her figure gloriously proportioned (as the lads would say to each other). But she still preferred being out on the back of a horse to being at a ball or being pursued by (gadzooks!) suitors.

Which was another matter that pressed upon her, and it wasn't one she cared very much to discuss. There were young men who flirted with her, Virginia militiamen who came into the store and asked to call upon her. Older men would do double takes when she walked by, younger men who asked her father if she was available. Mr. Merriman would always say with a grin, "Not until she's sixteen, and even then that is entirely up to her."

God bless Father, he was a good man!

Other fathers would ordinarily be pressing their elegible daughters into courting. Some fathers even arranged their daughter's marriages. Not so Mr. Merriman, Lord be praised. He knew his eldest daughter very well. He knew Felicity's heart and dreams were away with Ben Davidson, that she could not give serious thought to any young fellow until Ben returned. She was concerned as to their regards for one another...even if she insisted that she didn't want to give courting any serious thought until after the war was over.

Mr. Merriman knew her too well. She wanted to wait for Ben. Mr. Merriman knew that to try to force her into doing something that she was dead set against would not only destroy their close father-daughter relationship but break her heart as well. To even consider something that would forever ruin the adoration and devotion she expressed in her eyes would be the end of him. He would rather allow her to wait until she was ready.

Felicity, with Ben lingering on her mind, considered going straight to the Raleigh Tavern to ask about letters or see what news there was, if any, concerning Lee's Legion or General Greene. Or General Marion. Or anything going on in the southern territories. _No_, she told herself firmly, _I shouldn't_. _Father and Marcus are waiting on me_. _Mayhaps there is nothing new_, _like yesterday_, _or the day before_..._or the week before_.

She considered going to Jane Vobe's Tavern to check for mail, but again told herself no. She had a responsibility to her father. And if there was anything, letters or news, someone would let her know. Didn't Father, Marcus and Mr. Haverty (who referred to Ben as being "that lad of yours") always check for her? Aye. Didn't everyone in town know that she was active in the Patriot movement? Aye. And didn't her friends in the circle of Williamsburg patriot Ladies share news and collect letters for one another? Aye! So there was no need for her to waste time getting to the store when she had reliable friends and family to seek her out if need be.

It wasn't like no one knew where to find her.

Duke of Glouscester Street was busy with people and wagons. There had been little change since the Capitol had moved to Richmond, thankfully. But how much longer would that last, she often wondered. There were no longer Publick Times, but people still gathered twice a week to bring their goods to sale on the Market Square. The theatres were hardly open anymore, but there was still the occasional ball, where an acting troupe would put on a small performance. For the most, people were still carrying on like always, but Felicity Merriman could tell her fellow townsfolk were worried-an air of nervous unease hung over the town, spurred by the knowledge that Cornwallis and that horrible Banastre Tarleton were still in the south, and the taunting fear that they might enter Virginia. Richmond was not that far from Williamsburg. Richmond was now the capitol. The British might come to Williamsburg on their way to Richmond, or continue on to Williamsburg after taking Richmond-

Felicity shuddered. _I cannot think this way_! _And what about Ben_, _who must FIGHT the British_? _Is he not enduring worse_? _Nay_, _I must not let thoughts of what MIGHT happen rule me_. _'Tis best to dwell on what I _DO _know_, _and what I know is that the Patriot Army is fighting very hard_. _They will not give up_, _therfore_ I _will not give up_. _Put_ THAT _thought under your hat_, _silly Lissie_!

"Good morning, Father. Good morning, Marcus," she said cheerfully as she breezed into the open doors of Merriman's Store, holding her sun hat in her hand. Both her father and his black servant were at the counter talking in low tones. They both looked up as Felicity came in.

Mr. Merriman stopped talking in mid-sentence to Marcus, smiled his bright smile at his eldest daughter, and placed both hands upon her shoulders when she came up to them. "Good morning, my girl. Glad you are finally here. Marcus and I need to get going if we are to be back by nightfall."

"Did I interrrupt something, Father?" Felicity asked curiously, noting how her father and Marcus had exchanged 'Better hush now' looks when she came in. She hated when they did that!

"Oh no, Lissie," Mr. Merriman replied pleasantly, with his best attempt at assurance that obviously Felicity wasn't too assured about. "We were just going over our plans for today."

Felicity folded both arms over her chest and gave them a sly smile. "Mmm-hmm. Elizabeth would call that discussing 'manly-matters'."

Marcus laughed good-naturedly, his grin a brilliant white against the deep dark of his skin. "Aye, Miss Lissie, 'twas manly-matters for sho'!"

"Marcus, can't you tell me what all this secretness is about?" she pleaded with a bounce on her toes. "I've asked Mother again and again and she won't say boo about it!"

"Now Miss Lissie, I can't do that!" Marcus said with a shake of his head. "It's a manly-matter!'

Felicity rolled her eyes.

"Almost sixteen and still as curious as ever," said Mr. Merriman. In a little over four years, wisps of grey had started at Father's temples, but his blue eyes were as youthful as always. They held an amused sparkle in them for his willful daughter. "How many times has your mother told you 'tis impolite to ask so many questions?"

"About as many times as you have told me asking questions is the best way to learn something!" the fiery-haired teen shot back.

Marcus chuckled.

Mr. Merriman reddened. "Ah, yes, so I have," sighed he, smiling.

Felicity cocked her eyebrow, very much like her mother did. "So perhaps this is not just a manly-matter, but a people-matter as well?" Oh, she hated it even more when it was automatically assumed women were as dumb as stumps! Where would men be without women in the first place!

"I promise you, my girl, when the time is right you and your sisters and brother will know. Here is Haverty! Marcus and I need to get going now." He kissed her closest cheek. "Have a good day, Lissie."

"Thank you, Father. Be careful." She watched him shake hands with Mr. Haverty as he and Marcus exited the store. Mr. Caleb Haverty reached behind the counter and whipped out his apron (for he felt very business-like in an apron, as he once wore one in his father's store) and eyed the still-staring Felicity puzzlingly.

"What're you about this morning?" he asked as he tied strings behind his waist. "Any word from that lad of yours?"

Felicity's green eys snapped from the doorway to her friend. She had been lost in thought about Father's secret, whatever it was. "Oh, no. Not since February." She smiled meagerly, strolled over to the high stool behind the counter and sat herself upon it. "I hope he hasn't gotten ill again."

"Where's he at these days?"

"North Carolina," she sighed. "Last I heard. It seems like no body's heard anything about anything since the fight at Guilford Courthouse."

"Aye," agreed Mr. Haverty. "And that was one helluva blow up! If you'll pardon my language."

Felicity giggled, despite her worry for Ben. "Mr. Haverty, you should know by now that anything can be said between friends! And yes, the Guilford Courthouse battle was terrible. I know Ben and the Legion was there. The ' Gazette reported they faught the Hessians and Tarleton. Both sides claim the victory."

"Nonsense," muttered Felicity's favorite grump, as he reached for the whisk broom leaning up against the counter. "General Greene is the best man Washington's got! Greene has the Legion with him, so they're damn near unstoppable!" When the red-headed teen giggled again, Haverty smiled uncontrollably. "The Missus would have my hide if she heard me swearin' in front of a young lady!"

"Well, 'tis a good thing I'm not the tattle-tale type!" Felicity grinned back at him. "Were I a boy I would go to the Raleigh with you and Father and drink beer and thump the table with my fist!"

"Heh-heh. Table pounding aint all its cracked up to be, girl. You got to be hollerin' about redcoats and rights, taxes and Tories, and be piss-drunk on top of all that!" When Felicity laughed wildly, Haverty realized what he had just said and turned as red as a beet.

Before he could appologize for his language again, Felicity looked thoughtful, tapped her chin with a finger and said, "Father likes to go to the Patriot meetings at the Raleigh, but he never gets piss-drunk." Mr. Haverty gaped at her, but she continued, "In fact, I've never known Father to get piss-drunk any time..." "Listen to you!"

Felicity smirked.

"A bad influence, that's what I am," Haverty said, as he took up sweeping, shaking his head (and grinning to himself). "That's what I am, a bad influence."

"Oh Mr. Haverty, do go on!"

At that moment, the first customer of the day strolled in, a woman with her little boy in tow. Felicity bobbed a curtsy and assisted her with her usual friendliness and chit-chat. Mr. Haverty just smiled, but a small part of him felt disappointed that his only son, the book-wormish Edgar, was not here to be engaged to the lovely, delightful Felicity Merriman. Alas. Edgar Haverty was not engaged to anyone at all, unless it was to his books and ledgers. Edgar was a congressman's aide now, and scared to death of women.

Just as well, thought Caleb Haverty, sweeping his way toward the open front doors. He'd never make a decent match for Felicity. Ah, well...

'Twas getting to be late in the afternoon, and the amount of customers had slowed to none-not that there had been many to begin with. Felicity had counted twelve in all. For Merriman's Store, that was a depressing amount. But Felicity Merriman wasn't too depressed. Her father and Marcus would be back from King's Creek by tonight, the store had had some business, Arthur and Elizabeth had stopped in earlier...things weren't so glum with the two of them around!

Felicity was wiping off the counter top with a damp rag, when she heard giggling. She looked up to see three young boys, around the ages of seven or eight, coming into the store with shy, wide grins. The first boy had dark brown hair, the second sandy-colored hair, and the third had sandy-colored hair as well (for he was a year older than the second boy, his brother). They stood in front of the counter, gushing bashfully.

She grinned at the three. "Well, hello there, Luke," she said to the first boy. "Hello, Bertram," she said to the second boy. "And hello to you, too...Ceasar, is it?"

"Cecil!" exclaimed the third boy, who wore spectacles and looked very smart.

"Ah, yes, Cecil!" Felicity slapped the counter playfully. "I shant forget again! Now, what can I do for you three young gentlemen today?"

The second boy, Bertram, blushed intensely, twisted nervously a bit, and said, "Well...nothing, really..." The first boy, Luke, cleared his throat shyly. "We, um, just wanted to see you, and..." He gulped, having become even more shy. "Actually, Miss Felicity," said Cecil (using the name she encouraged them to use with her), "'tis Friday, and we were wondering..."

Felicity beamed at the boys adoringly. "Wondering if I would give each of you a free piece of candy like I said I would?" she asked, already knowing.

"Aye!" exclaimed the three, though not in sync.

"You don't mind, do you, Miss Felicity?" asked young Bertram.

"Well, I did say for you three to stop by every Friday, did I not?" She was already reaching for the jar of rock candy behind her as the little trio of heads nodded with enthusiasm. "And I am a lady of my word. And as my three favorite suitors, you did promise not to tell the other boys, correct?"

"Yes, Miss Felicity!" they cried joyfully.

"Well there you are, then." She put in each of the eager, open palms a good sized piece of sweet, hard, crystalline candy, and they gazed at her with wonderous adoration.

"Thank you, Miss Felicity!"

"Yes, thank you lots!"

"We shant tell anyone!"

Felicity grinned wide. "Excellent! Now off you go!'

And off they went, as happy as clams, except for young Cecil, who paused in the doorway, looked back at the smiling red-headed lady and said, "Someday, Miss Felicity, I am going to marry you!" He pushed his spectacles back up on his nose with a finger and trotted away with his cohorts.

Felicity laughed, shaking her head.

Mr. Haverty had heard everything from where he was rumaging through a barrel full of tools of various sorts, looking for a good-sized hammer he intended to purchase for himself. He grunted and said, "Well, there go three more lads soon to have broken hearts like many others."

"You think?" Felicity put her hands on her hips and eyed the older man with amusement.

"You're too good to 'em. They'll fall in love with anyone who gives 'em free candy. What would your father think if he knew you were giving 'em free candy every Friday?"

She grinned. "I believe Father wouldn't mind a bit!" She jerked a thumb at the candy jar on the shelf behind her. "That candy has been sitting there a good long while, anyway. I'd rather give it to the children than let it go to waste."

"You're too good to 'em."

Felicity laughed again. She thought about looking around to see what else needed to be dusted or rearranged or cleaned, but someone was coming into the store just then. Make that two someones. Felicity stopped reaching for her dust rag and stared. The first man was not just any man, but one who's face and build was hauntingly familiar. A face she hadn't seen in a good long while, say three or four years.

Lord Reginald Maxim Forsythe.

Still a short young man, twenty-one years of age, soon to be twenty-two, he wore a starch white wig with rolled curls around the temples and ears, it's white queue pulled back in a white ribbon. His forehead was still high as ever, suggesting his hairline had receeded even further back beneath the wig, his eyes still small and hazrl, of course. They locked on to Felicity at once.

Over his frilly white shirt (and matching frilly cravat) he wore a velvet magenta waistcoat and overcoat with rich gold embroidery at the lapels and cuffs, magenta velvet breeches, stark white stockings and polished black shoes with silver buckles. The shoes had heels higher than the average mens' shoes, and the fellow was still short. He had a rather sophisticated ebony walking-stick with a brass handle shaped like the head of a greyhound.

With him was a tall, slender man of around sixty years of age, dressed in black (as a butler/footman/confidant might be), trimmed in silver. his eyes looked tired and bored, but always seemed to be looking down his long nose at everyone but his master, whom he faithfully followed. This stiff, unexcitable fellow was Mr. Saul Smedley, Forsythe's man. he glanced about the store with a bit of annoyance, but tilted his chin up and kept his hands dutifully clasped behind his back.

Forsythe removed his velvet magenta tricorn (complete with white feather plume, of course) and made a low, sweeping bow before the counter. "Greetings, Miss Felicity Merriman!" he drawled pleasantly, "'tis with great pleasure I find myself once again in your presence!"

"Reginald Forsythe?" Felicity gulped, too stunned to remember to curtsy. "Lord Forsythe?" He grinned, showing yellowish teeth. "Always Reggie to you, my dear. Always at your service!"

"Oh, my..." Her mind had gone blank with shock.

Smedley rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Th-the last time anyone heard of you was nearly four ago," she said, looking uncertain. "You left Williamsburg with your mother to see about your father's estate in Bristol, I believe?"

"Indeed," replied the young Lord, with a smirk. "'Twas not the usual manner of inheriting an estate that I had anticipated, but after some lengthy preparations, I believe all is in order for me to preside over Father's business." He looked Felicity up and down (as much as the counter would allow him to, anyway). "My God, you've grown into such a rose, Miss Felicity."

She felt herself turn red at that. "And how is your mother? Has she returned with you?"

"Nay, she has not," Forsythe sighed. "I'm afraid that the state of her mind has rendered her unable to bear a sea voyage ever again. She has come to rely heavily upon her medicinal powders. Most of the time she knows me not."

"I'm sorry," eased Felicity. Over at the tool barrel, Mr. Haverty made a grunting sound akin to one trying very hard not to snicker.

Forsythe shrugged indifferently. "All that can be done for her is being done."

Felicity nodded. "So what brings you back to the colonies? 'Tis a wonder that your ship was allowed past the king's naval vessels!"

"Well," began Forsythe, leaning against the counter and looking most thoughtful, "My countrymen found no fault with my ship, so I was allowed admittance to the bay, though they told me I was daft for wanting to return." Felicity couldn't help but grin, for she agreed with that.

"But I wanted to make one last visit to my Auntie Lucinda's estate and retrieve some very important personal items of mine that I had left in her keeping." He straightened, his demeanor of 'I'm so rich that I'm actually bored' suddenly changing to one of unexpected candidness. "I had also hoped to see you again, Miss Felicity."

In the back of her mind she had been afraid of that.

"I know that you remember," he went on, "when last I was here I was quite taken with you. I must confess, Felicity, that I still am."

She swallowed nervously, but kept her cool. "Really! I suppose you hear that from plenty of amorous lads, though." He smiled, an attempt at warmth. "You most likely are having to beat them off with a stick!"  
Felicity shrugged. "It seems like that sometimes, and I'm not even sixteen yet. I won't even consider courting anyone until the war is over." _There_! _Hopefully_ that _will discourage him from getting any ideas_, _not that Father would hear them anyway_, _hee hee_!

But Reginald Forsythe beamed happily. "That is excellent reasoning Miss Felicity, very excellent indeed."

"I'm glad you think so," she told him with a smile. She wasn't being rude or sarcastic, but genuinely glad. She saw no reason to be afraid of the overconfident fop, but something about him just made her feel uneasy, just like when he was in Williamsburg before. Like he was up to something, Like he wanted something from her she didn't want to give-an impression she was used to getting with the town's flirty fellows, but with Forsythe there always seemed to be something more. "So is there anything I can assist you with today, Mr. Forsythe?"

"Of course!" he said right away. "I should like to purchase for my Auntie a spool of white silk thread!'

Felicity nodded pleasantly and turned around to retrieve the rack of silk threads from a shelf behind her. She just barely was able to make out Mr. Haverty mumbling "' Auntie.' Humph!" from where he was still piddling around with the tools. Piddling around, no doubt, so he could hear whatever foppish Forsythe was saying.

Apparently, Caleb Haverty had not had very much exposure to fop dandies.

"Here you are, Reginald Forsythe," said Felicity courteously, presenting the rack before him on the counter top. She removed the spool of white silk thread from its peg and handed it to him."Will that be all?"

"Yes, Miss Felicity. I thank you very much. My Auntie's maids are helping her to make a special gift for a friend of ours. Smedley, pay the lovely lady."

Wordlessly and a trifle bit moodily, the soporific footman removed coins from his inner coat pocket and put them on the counter. Forsythe handed him the thread to carry (for the bored-stiff rich did not carry their own threads), and tipped his hat to Felicity. "Good afternoon to you, Miss Merriman. I shall see you sometime." Felicity curtsied so fast one could have been mistaken that she had moved at all. "Good afternoon, Mr. Forsythe." Feeling humored by the butler, she added, "To you, too, Smedley."

Smedley cocked an eyebrow in bland curiosity as he turned away with his young lord master.

When they were gone, Mr. Haverty stepped over to her. "That was Lady Templeton's nephew? I'd heard he was odd, but by doodle, he's _odd_!" Felicity chuckled.

"Seems like I remember your father saying something about the boy taking a fancy to you a few years ago. Got on your father's nerves."

"Aye," confirmed Felicity, shaking her head. "He wanted to court me and I was only eleven! He made me nervous then, and for some reason, he makes me nervous now."

"Something about that boy aint right," Haverty said. "Too rich. Too spoiled. There's something else, though I can't put my finger on it."

"I know." Felicity smiled crookedly. "Ben called him a fop-turtle. And a dandy, among other things."

"Heh heh. Sounds about right for the likes of him." He looked at his young friend and scratched his chin. "You, uh, worried about him comin' around? About the fop-a-doodle, I mean?"

This time she shrugged indifferently and crinkled her mouth. "Nah. He's odd and quirky and unpredictable, but I can handle that." She looked at the open doorway of the store and mused, "I can handle him."

Lord Reginald Forsythe strolled along Duke of Gloucester Street with a contemplative smile on his thin face. He looked up at the sunlight slanting through the just budding branches of the elm trees, but he was seeing other things in his mind's eye. He smiled even more.

"My Lord," ventured Smedley at his side, "the girl is a shopkeeper's daughter."

"So she is," replied Forsythe absently. "But she is an angellic beauty, is she not?"

"Perhaps, but-"

"I will not hear 'Buts' from you, my good man. She is the one."

Smedley sighed with a tinge of frustration. "A shopkeeper's daughter, my Lord!"

Forsythe gave him a look from the corners of his small hazel eyes. "'Tis only a trivial fact, that. But since you want to make an issue out of it, then I must remind you that her shopkeeper father is a well-known and highly regarded citizen in this town."

"He was accused of selling supplies to the British Army in '76," Smedley pointed out stiffly.

"Trivial," huffed Forsythe. "And amusing."

"She is a dedicated member of the patriot Ladies of Williamsburg!"

"Trivial!"

"She uncovered a British spy in '76!"

"All trivial!" Forsythe stopped, tapped his shiny ebony walking stick on the cobblestone pavement and said, "Look here, Smedley, I don't give a sugar-coated tart what she has done or what her family has or has not done! I want her. I shall therefore have her."

Smedley sighed wearily. "As you wish, my Lord."

"Bloody well right, 'as I wish'!" They began walking again. "I have the money now. I have the means. There is nothing to stop me anymore."

"Not even the meddlesome apprentice?" Smedley knew he was was risking a whack from the waking stick, but the rheumatism in his knees was already bothering him so much that he did not care.

"Especially the meddlesome apprentice!" Forsythe's chin came up smugly. "My source tells me he is off fighting in the southern colonies-he's bound to end up dead any time. 'Tis only a matter of time. If he is not killed and manages to return, well then, I can handle that as well."

Smedley blinked rapidly in confusion. "My Lord?"

"In good time, old man, in good time." He smiled to himself quite happily. "For now, however, 'tis time to put first plan into action!"

Smedley raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

_She rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her_?

_She rules her life like a bird in flight And who will be her lover_?

_All your life you've never seen a woman_, _taken by the wind_

_Would you stay if she promised you heaven_ _Would you ever win_? _Will you ever win_?

-Excerpt from "_Rhiannon_" by the beloved Stevie Nicks.  
Author's Note: I do not claim to claim any lyricals. They are merely for poetic purpose. But y'all know that already.


	7. Ch3:A Proposal

Felicity: An AMerican Girl ROMANCE, Part 2, CH. 3: A Proposal

April 1781

Edward Merriman wasn't having too good a day. First of all, he'd just recieved word from two of his once reliable suppliers in the Caribees that they were no longer allowed to trade _or _ship goods to their continental merchants anymore, for they were under the threat of prosecution and their ships under the threat of piracy and whatever whims the British navy decided to enforce. And his suppliers were British on top of that. They had no fault, no fault whatsoever with Edward Merriman at all. Business was business. His suppliers would probably suffer more than he would!

Second of all, business itself was agonizingly slow. Hardly more than a handful of customers some days, less than that on others. People had given to the Patriot Army just about all they could, and that left them with next to nothing. He brought what perishable goods he could from King's Creek, but it did little to encourage spending. Thing was, he completely understood his customers' situations. He could not blame them.

Thirdly, and the thing that most aggravated him, was that Reginald Forsythe was back. _Lord _Forsythe, that is. And even more than the young Lord's domineering presence was what Forsythe came to Edward Merriman to discuss earlier that day, in the privacy of the store's counting room...

"Mr. Merriman," Forsythe began, after a deep bow. He'd been clad in God-awful brilliant green, with yellow trimmings, and always with the white ruffles. Too many ruffles for the average man, Edward Merriman had thought. "I would like to speak with you, gentleman to gentleman."

"I did agree to a few minutes' time with you," Mr. Merriman said, sounding neither angry or pleased to see the outlandish young lord, but because some time had elapsed and because of Lady Templeton, he felt willing to hear the lad out. But suspicion was telling Mr. Merriman that he already knew what Forsythe wanted to talk about.

Or _who_.

"Yes sir, I do thank you gratefully for seeing me today." Forsythe folded his white-gloved hands over the head of the ebony walking-stick as he stood stiffly before Mr. Merriman, who was seated behind his desk. "I do hope we can forage a better understanding of one another. After all, I'm no longer the child I was four years ago."

Mr. Merriman nodded slowly. "I indeed hope so, Mr. Forsythe."

"And neither is your Felicity, Mr. Merriman."

_Now it comes, _Edward thought, unable to help but be amused. _Quick to the point, just as I expected. _"No, Mr. Forsythe, she is not. But she is not yet sixteen, neither. You _do _recall what I told you before about age and courting, so you not?"

"Yes, sir, as a matter of fact, I do." Forsythe's tone was calm and correct. "But 'tis not courtship I came to inquire about, Mr. Merriman."

Oh no.

There was a shine to Forsythe's hazel eyes. "I am _declaring _for her. I would be honored to have Felicity's hand in marriage." Mr. Merriman's jaw dropped open, but Forsythe didn't give him a chance to speak. He held up a white-gloved hand and said quickly, "But I do not want you to give me an answer yet! Please, sir, do not answer me yet. I ask, I pray-I _beg _of you to take some time and think about my proposal. I want you to consider me seriously. Consider my wealth, Felicity will never want for anything. She will have all that her heart desires and more. I care nothing about a dowry, sir, that needn't be trifled with. As for the rest of your family, I can assure you I can more than procide for your family's needs. We shall be in-laws! What your family desires, sir, I can happily give them."

Edward Merriman was actually quiet a moment as he stared at Lord Reginald Forsythe, standing before him. For one whole minute he took in the younger man's face, which was set firmly in a determined expression with pleading eyes. This..._bizarre _young man wanted Felicity. As a wife. Forever. To say yes to the boy-lord would change everything...forever. To say _yes _would make one person happier than sunshine and shatter another person's life...forever. Felicity, Mr. Merriman knew, would hate her father forever.

She'd rather die than marry Reginald Forsythe.

Edward Merriman could not, nor would not, have that.

"Reginald," he began, his initial shock giving way to a tired attempt at reasoning, "no amount of money could buy love. Certainly not Felicity's."

Up came the chin defiantly. Forsythe had been expecting that. "Oh well, I'm aware of that, sir. A vast majority of marriages start out emotionless. Love happens along later."

_Happens _along? Mr. Merriman pinched the bridge of his nose. _How can he sound so lackadaisical? Good Lord, I could noever consider-I could NEVER! _His voice strained, he said, "Felicity's heart simply cannot be bought, or her love _forced_. Her mother and I did not raise her that way, nor did we any of our _other _children. Felicity has never expressed interest in you, Reginald. Her heart belongs elsewhere. I do not need any amount of time to contemplate the matter. My answer is as before-_no_."

"I was afraid of that," replied Forsythe, almost sadly. "Very well, Mr. Merriman."

Edward frowned, being taken aback. No arguments? No protests? "You would actually accept _no _for an answer?"

Forsythe smiled the thinnest of smiles. "Have I a choice?"

_This cannot be good, _Mr. Merriman thought uneasily. _He's too accepting. He knew I'd deny him right away. Yet he asked. He is up to something. I KNOW it! _"'Tis only the proper thing to do, Reginald. There _is _a young lady out there for you in the world, lad. But it is just not Felicity. Do you understand?"

"Of course," replied Forsythe, his smile thin and devoid of any true emotion. "I had to try, you see. I'm sure mine is not the only proposal of marriage to such a beautiful young woman."

"No, it is not," Mr. Merriman sighed. _Just the most unusual. The most suspicious..._

"Very well, then," Forsythe said again, bowing briefly. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Merriman, you have been most gracious." When the older man nodded, the boy-lord added, with a glint in his eyes that Edward Merriman found most unsettling, "I know that Felicity shall, in good time, be married to a most deserving husband."

Mr. Merriman swallowed tensely. "Thank you, Reginald. Good day."

"Good day, sir."

The young lord quitted the store in a strut, leaving Edward to ponder tensely the peculiarity of the whole conversation. Being a merchant and a store-keeper, he was quite used to dealing with all manner of people, making him adept in the art of dealing with a range of personalities and a fair judge of characters. He'd never, ever encountered the likes of Reggie Forsythe before. But being a fair judge of character, Edward Merriman could sense trouble about a person before it manifested itself. Being in war and in merchandising tended to sharpen one's people-skills, after all.

And, _after all_, there wasn't _that _big of a leap between war and merchandising, he'd often thought wryly.

But there was trouble here. He could sense it. Forsythe was too intense, too dominant a personality...too _not right_. The whole exchange of words had been to..._cordial_. Mr. Merriman stared at the cleared off top of his desk and tapped his foot. What was to be done? Forsythe had not done anything wrong. All Edward had was a feeling.

But feelings were very powerful things. Especially those of the gut. Edward Merriman put absolute faith in them. 'Twas the gut-feelings that compelled him to dedicate work on his secret plans over the past four years. 'Twas the gut feelings that were compelling him to consider some measure of keeping Felicity safe from Reginald Forsythe. Lock her away? Nay (heh-heh). 'Twould be impossible, no one would care for that. _Send _her away? Nay. She'd just bring herself back. No one would go for that. Edward Merriman thought and thought.

Finally, he thought of something.

"Are you sure Mrs. Trent can spare you today?" Mr. Merriman cast a hopeful glance at his eldest daughter as they rode along, side by side, toward one of Mr. Haverty's pastures. He rode Old Bess and Felicity rode Penny. The afternoon a few days following Forsythe's proposal was an enjoyable one; sunny and springish. Perfect for what he had in mind for Felicity.

"I'm _sure_, Father!" Felicity said, exasperated. "You needn't keep asking me every few minutes!"

"I wanted to be sure! Okay, this is a good field. Tree trunks over in that corner look good. Let's dismount here."

Felicity eyed her father quizzically, but did as he said. She was wearing a riding habit that she herself had made, having outgrown the one her beloved grandfather had gotten for her just before he died. She had done her very best to reproduce it in a larger size, and with Nan's and Elizabeth's help, had done an excellent job. Since Nan did not ride, Felicity saved the former outfit for Polly, who wanted very much to ride.

Old Bess and Penny were left alone to graze as Felicity and her father strolled away from them and toward the trees that he had said "looked good." _Good for what, chopping wood? _Felicity wondered. _What is Father up to NOW? _This morning he said he wanted her to accompany him out to one of Mr. Haverty's fields, but he would not say what for. Mr. Merriman was carrying a good-sized leather sack with him, so Felicity assumed that whatever was in the sack had something to do with the trees that he believed "looked good." She decided that in trying to figure her father out, she was utterly _'stumped'_, pun intended. _Arthur would have liked that one..._

About thirty or so feet away from the trees, Mr. Merriman stopped, put his leather sack on the grass before them and rubbed his hands together. He looked at Felicity, who stood beside him, hands on her hips, regarding him with mild curiosity. _If your mother knew what I was doing...! Lord, please let this not be proven a bad idea!_

"I guess you're wondering why I brought you out here," he said sheepishly.

What, _me_, curious?" Felicity grinned good-naturedly. "Aye, I am wondering! I _do _like spending time with you, though, Father. Whatever we're out here for, it can't be bad, can it?"

"Depends, Lissie," he replied cautiously, "on what _you _think." Now she was utterly baffled. She stared at her father as he squatted before the leather sack and rumaged through it. But he paused suddenly, and looked up at her, thinking. "Felicity, does Reginald Forsythe frighten you?"

"_No_," she answered firmly. Father had told her-he had told the whole family-about Forsythe's proposal a few days ago. They had all been appalled, even little Polly, who didn't fully understand the family's wariness of the 'Forsythe fellow', just that a very unlikeable English boy wanted to marry their beloved Felicity and no one, especially Felicity, wanted that! Felicity's face was as set as stone. "No, Father, absolutely not! I was when I was younger, when I first met him about five years ago, but not any more. 'Tis like you say, when you learn about a person, you learn how to adjust to them."

Edward Merriman smiled the briefest of warm, fatherly smiles, then grew serious again. "Lissie...what I am about to show you isn't anything really to be afraid of. Of all of my children, you are the bravest. William is brave, too, but he's still too young to have an understanding of the world outside our home. You do. You are also a young lady that has gained the attention of every fellow in Willamsburg, and the attention of one fellow in particular that we cannot trust."

Felicity nodded gravely.

"For some time now, honey, I've had worries about the future. Our future. _Your _future. These are uncertain, unreliable times. Ben was right when he wrote and told you we should be prepared."

Felicity licked her lips. Hanging on to his every word, she was beginning to get the feeling that her father was about to entrust her with something out of the ordinary. Whatever he had planned, it would in some greater measure provide some protection of sorts. She swallowed and asked, "Does this have anything to do with all the secret stuff you have been doing?"

"Well, in a way, Lissie." Mr. Merriman looked like he was having a difficult time with this. "I have been doing things that will help provide for our family in a time of crisis. Today, I am doing something that will help _you_, God willing, should there be a _Forsythe _crisis. If you agree to what I'm about to show you, you must keep it a secret yourself. Can you do that, my girl?"

"Yes, Father!" Her resolve steeled. She was determined to prove herself as strong and reliable as Father was obviously hoping she was. She would not fail him.

He nodded, with approval on his face and hope in his blue eyes. "Very good. Now a couple of years ago, I overheard you and William out in the barn talking about-how did you put it?-_If patience and a clear head do not work_?"

Felicity gaped at him. Father knew about her teaching William how to hit? She absolutely did not know what to say!

He smiled wide at his daughter's reaction. "Aye, Lissie, I know about you and Will in the barn that evening. I would have protested, mind you, had not our William's confidence grown quite helpfully after that. Ben is not here, and he has no older brothers to show him how to do things. So, I suppose it _was _a thoughtful thing for you to do for him. But!-" and he held up a protesting finger. "I do not condone violence, nor have I ever." And then he sighed. "Yet there comes a time when mere words of reasoning just do not work, Lissie. You were right about that.

"And that leads me to something else I heard you tell William that evening, my dear. _Do you not have the right to defend yourself? _Just becuase you're a girl doesn't mean you can't have a chance to defend yourself. I have thought abour your words off and on, Lissie. I believe you are quite correct."

"You do?" she gulped in awe.

"That's right, I do. Because I do, because of the events going on around us, and because of Forsythe's unpredictability, I want to show you _this_." And he reached into the leather sack again.

Slowly, he withdrew a familiar-looking flintlock pistol.

It's stock was made of cherry wood, with a wild horse's head engraved on it. The metal barrel was about fifteen inches long. Felicity knew that pistol-'twas one of a fine set that her Father had given to her Grandfather for Christmas a few years before Grandfather had died. It had made Grandfather very happy, for he was a collector of weapons and pistols. It was the first and only set of pistols he would ever own that were made in the American colonies. Felicity had often wondered what would happen to her grandfather's collections-some of them were still hanging on the walls of his King's Creek plantation for display, others had been sold. It was nice to see that these had been kept.

But now Felicity understood. He wanted to teach her how to use it, so that she could protect herself. Her heart began to race with excitement and nervousness-and a bit of astonishment. Had she been the typical, proper gentlewoman her mother wished so much she would become, she would have recoiled at the sight of, or even the suggestion of using, a gun. But not Felicity Merriman! her eyes grew wide with wonder.

Mr. Merriman gazed at his stunned daughter. "Tell me what you're thinking, Lissie."

"Well," she began gingerly, "Mother definately would not approve..."

"Do _you_, my brave girl?"

Felicity's big green eyes went to the pistol, then back to her father's gentle, patient face. In a determined, serious tone, she said without hesitation, "Aye, Father. Show me what to do!"

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Felicity Merriman learned how to load and fire a flintlock pistol. Mr. Merriman had brought the other pistol in the sack so that she could load her own by watching him load his. At first, her hands trembled as she handled the gun, more from it being heavy and awkward rather than her being afraid of it. Her father showed her how to pour the coarse-grained black powder from the powder horn into the muzzle. She was clumsy with it at first, spilling it on the grass, but Father was patient with her.

She was, however, good at ramming the patched ammunition ball in after the powder. It made her father laugh to see her so determined, her aggressive pixie-face so intent on learning the aggravating process.  
"Open the flashpan-that's it there on top of the gun, see? Like I'm doing," instructed Edward Merriman calmly, showing her with the pistol he had. It's twin was handled by Felicity, following her father's actions with extremely focused eyes and awkward, not-so-very-smooth movements.

He picked up the flask of priming powder next. "It's important that you not add too much or too little. About _this _much will do nicely." And he poured into the pan briefly, handed the flask to Felicity, who did as he had done, albeit with jerky movements, for she was not used to this at all.

She had to snap the pan cover shut, tilt the thing to the left and give it a tap (to ensure that a few grains of priming powder entered the barrel vent) and cock it fully, all as Father had done. Her hands were dirty from powder black and her father's were not, but then he was used to this. In the back of her mind she thought about how soldiers-and Ben-had to learn to do this and do it quick. The whole proceedure-powder, ramming the ammo ball, adding more powder, tapping, cocking-had to be done over and over as fast as possible, and even then in the presence of enemies who most likely had to do the same thing, with the intentions of pointing the thing at you and firing it at you. And the hard little ammo ball was intended to do harm, to _kill _a person.

_But, _Felicity thought in amazement, _that is what soldiers do. THIS is what soldiers do. What our Ben has to do. If he can dio it, so can I! I don't want to kill anyone...but I do want to shoot like a boy does!_

Mr. Merriman gave her an encouraging smile. "After the gun is fired, you have to do the whole thing over again, of course. I used to be really fast when I was younger. The last time I fired a pistol was..." He had to think about it a moment. "Hmmm...ah, yes! The last time I fired a pistol was when your grandfather and I went turkey hunting the year before he-"

Felicity smiled at her father's sentimentality.

"Well, you know." He cleared his throat. "All right now! See those trees there?" He pointed at arm's length.

"Yes, Father."

"I want you to aim for that one with the widest trunk. See if you can't shoot that ball right into the middle of it." He watched her raise the pistol, extend her arm, which began to shake some from the weight of the weapon, so Mr. Merriman stepped behind her and nudged her other arm a little. "Hold it with both hands, Lissie, or you'll be shooting at the clouds, honey."

"Like this?" With both hands holding the gun, her arms did not shake so much.

"Aye, that's better. Now aim for the center of the trunk." He gently pushed her extended arms to the left. "Can you see it at the end of your barrel?"

"Aye!" Felicity's mouth was crinkled in fierce concentration.

Mr. Merriman stepped back. "Now pull the trigger."

_Bang! _Felicity, gaping, staggered to her left, but quickly regained her balance. She felt the weapon's dislodging of its little ball rattling through her entire frame! That, combined with her anxiety and shock of firing a gun for the first time in her life _ever, _had her trembling with surprise and excitement. "_Whoosh_!" said she.

Mr. Merriman grinned. "Takes some getting used to, doesn't it."

"D-Definately!" she blurted, returning his grin. "Did I hit the tree, Father?"

He walked toward the tree trunk, eyeing it closely. "No."

Felicity's grin faded. "Blast!"

"Hey now! 'Tis only the first time you have ever used a firing weapon!" Mr. Merriman chuckled. "And I cannot believe I just said that to my _daughter_!"

Felicity blinked uncertainly. "Are you having doubts about me, Father? About this?"

"No, sweetheart." He reached down and picked up his pistol off the grass. "Sometimes it just helps to find humor in a situation. Helps you to relax. Here, I'll trade with you. Mine is loaded and ready. Try again."

"This time I _know _I'll hit it!" Felicity scowled. Her determination renewed, she accepted her father's readied pistol and held it firmly in her hands. This time she did not shake. She raised it, aimed it at the thick tree turnk...grimaced as she centered the barrel at the trunk's center as best she could. _Steady, steady, _she told herself.

_Bang!_

She didn't stagger this time, as she had prepared herself for the burst, but instead merely wavered. She looked blazingly at the tree trunk, then errupted in whoops. "Look! Look, Father-I hit the tree, I hit it! Woo-hoo!" She jumped about him in a fit of "HAHAHAHA!"'s.

Mr. Merriman went up to the tree, shook his head and grinned. Indeed she had! Though not _in _the center, it was embedded in the tree's trunk to the _left _of the center. But a hit was a hit. Mr. Merriman took off his tricorn and slapped a knee with it. "By dingie, you most certainly did! Good shot!"

"Hee-hee! If only Ben could see me now!" Felicity Merriman squirmed with delight. "May I do it again?"

"Aye! Let us reload and you can try for the center a few more times. Then we must head for home." He strode back over to his eager daughter and together they repeated the process for loading their flintlocks.  
Though Felicity fired six more times, she had yet to hit the tree's center. Yet she did shoot all around it, which in Mr. Merriman's opinion was just as good. All he really wanted was for her to get a feel for the thing, for her to have the knowledge of how to use one should the need to ever arise, and he prayed to almighty God she would never have to. It gave him more peace of mind to know that _she _would know how to use it to defend herself.

"Remember, Lissie," he told her in all seriousness as they rode their horses home, "do not tell anyone about this. You will have to clean your hands outside before you go _inside _where your mother would see."

"Yes, Father." After a moment, she asked, "Could I not tell Elizabeth and Arthur? They _are _my best friends."

Mr. Merriman considered this. "Well, if you must. Only _if _you can be certain that they will not say anything to anyone else."

"Oh, they won't, Father," Felicity reassured him immediately. "Elizabeth is most reliable, and you know Arthur! He won't say boo about anything if you ask him not to!"

He had to smile at that. "Very well, Lissie."

"Thank you, Father." She smiled to herself. She thought about how her two beloved best friends would react when she told them her father had taught her how to use a pistol! 'Twas indeed a tremendous boost to her confidence to have this knowledge. She felt she truly was defying the limitations set upon her by society! Of course, she had heard of women who knew how to use guns and rifles because they had to protect their farms and livestock while their husbands and menfolk were away, but she never expected to learn to use a weapon herself! She, the daughter of a shoop-keeper in town! She felt most proud.  
_Just you try and mess with me now, Reginald Forsythe! _she thought daringly, defiantly, with her head held high.

As a matter of fact, at that very moment Reginald Forsythe _was _mulling over the next phase of his plans. Sitting in his private chambers up in Templeton Manor, sitting in an ornate arm-chair, in front of a richly carved fireplace lit with a flickering fire, he was gazing steadily and unblinkingly at hs favorite painting. The painting was of the beautiful, fiery-haire angel in robes of gold and red that bore an amzaing resemblance to the beautiful, fiery-haired Felicity Merriman. He thought of his Felicity, of her resemblance to his dead governess Miss Lucille . The painting, he determined, was just a painting. Miss Lucille was dead. Or was she? Felicity Merriman was so spirited, so full of energy and life, just like Miss Lucille had been, that it could not be mere coincedence.

He belived in second chances.

With Felicity, he would have the angel and Miss Lucille all in one glorious package. 'Twas destiny that he should have her. What he could not have with Lucille he would have with Felicity Merriman. He had it all worked out.

The next phase of his plan need a little more thought.


	8. Chapter 4: 'Occupational Hazards'

April 1781

Williamsburg was on edge, almost in a near-panic. Everyone seemed to be walking on egg shells, what with General Benedict Arnold sweeping through town on his way through Virginia. It had been on April eighteenth, a few days after Mr. Edward Merriman had taught his eldest daughter how to use a flintlock pistol. Scrambling home from the store, he made his wife, daughters, and house servant stay upstairs while he, son William, and servant Marcus kept a vigilant lookout as rowdy soldiers marched the streets. He sent Marcus to the now formal Capitol Square, where Arnold had the British flag raised and soldiers were announcing the rules of occupation. Marcus would report back everything he had heard and seen.

This of course was met with anger from the dominately patriot town. For two whole days Williamsburg was occupied, during which Arnold and his superior, Major General William Phillips, had their soldiers destroy the nearby shipyard. The Magazine was, of course, looted. Arnold insisted that the citizens of the town remain loyal to the king, and this produced many boos as well as defiance. And the city militia? Useless. Unable to resist near to five thousand British soldiers, what choice did they have but to lay down their arms and surrender?

Mr. Merriman would not let his womenfolk out of the house for those two days. 'Twas as if some unholy fear had seized him. He was tight-lipped and tense for those two days as well, keeping constant watch on the horses in the barn.

He decided that when Mr. Arnold was gone that he would most definately teach William how to use his pistol!

"I've seen war," he mumbled to his quiet, uptight family as they sat huddled at the table in the mini-kitchen one evening of Arnold's occupation. "I will not have any of you, Rose or Marcus, harmed. I will not let allow...things that I've seen happen to innocent people in war happen to any of you."

He'd sounded so grim, staring at the table top as he gripped his cup of black coffee. Martha Merriman, sitting close to him, laid a hand on his arm. He took hold of it as if his wife's touch alone gave him strength. Felicity, Nan and William exchanged tense, uneasy looks themselves. Little Polly, sitting between Felicity and William, was aware of the strain upon her family even if she didn't fully understand what the British being in Williamsburg meant. she laid her head on William's shoulder and stared downward somberly.

More than ever Felicity wished that Ben and the Legion were here. Surely they knew the British were here in Virginia! Were'nt there plenty of soldiers and bounty hunters eager to catch the traitorous General Arnold? Father had seen Arnold in person, when the man was calling for citizens of Willimsburg to renew their allegiance to King George the Third. Father said that Arnold didn't look like a villain, but a man under a great deal of stress. But that, said Mr. Merriman, did not excuse Arnold for betraying his country. every freedom-loving patriot wanted to get their hands on the bastard and turn him in...or worse.

Felicity agreed.

And in two days, Generals Arnold and Phillips were gone. The town of Williamsburg breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone knew it could have been worse, even though some businesses had been looted and some houses broken into. Merriman's Store had a window broken out of it ; someone or someones had gotten in, made a mes of the fabric bolt table, stole what flour, tobacco and sugar there was, prompting Marcus to swear and become quite irritable. Mr. Haverty, who had felt most happy and at ease working in the store all this time, was even more in a rage than Marcus and Mr. Merriman combined. He waved his fist in the air as he cursed both Benedict Arnold and the British, hollering things both fierce and foul.

Mr. Merriman couldn't help but be touched by the older man's anger. Caleb Haverty did put such care and attention into the store's appearance. Felicity went with ther father, Marcus and Mr. Haverty to see what condition the store had been in after General arnold and the soldiers had left. She smiled sympathetically when her father put an arm around the red-faced Haverty. Mr. Merriman had said, "Now, Caleb, 'tis not the worst that could happen. The store still stands. We still have goods to sell. Believe me, my friend, things could have been a lot worse." He had exchanged worried looks with Felicity and said, "And they may become worse even still." Felicity hadn't even felt herself nod. She was understanding that if her father believed the worst was yet to come, then it probably would, for Father had an uncanny sense about war-matters. After all, he had been a soldier once. He knew about these things.

And by mid-July, he would most definately be correct.

-JULY 19th, 1781

Partiot was one of the fastest horses in all of Williamsburg. Most likely the fastest in all of Virginia, Felicity Merriman would claim. Like a streak of black lightning, William Merriman would say. And the residents of Williamsburg would have no doubt of that when the Merriman's black servant, Marcus, came galloping down Duke of Gloucester Street shouting the words that froze everyone within ear-shot in their tracks:

"CORNWALLIS IS COMING!"

Gasps were emitted. Mouths dropped open in horror. A gentleman by the name of terrence Daily, known for his skills in wig-making, stepped forward and took hold of Patriot's bridle, trying to help Marcus get the hyper-excited horse to still his dancing hooves there in front of the Raleigh Tavern, where some alarmed men had amassed. "Tell us, Marcus!" Mr. Daily exclaimed (for everyone knew Marcus). "Is it true? Are you for certain?"

"Aye, suh!" Marcus replied, one of his hands flying up to his tricorn to keep it from flying off his head because Patriot was still prancing about. "Word's been passed down by folks living all up and down the James! He and a whole great big army are headed this way! They need supplies and you know they aint gonna let Will'sburg alone!"

"How far away, Marcus?" shouted a man in the Raleigh's doorway.

"'Bout five days, suh! Best be doin' what you need to do! I gotta spread the word!"

Mr. Daily released Patriot's rein and Marcus took off like a shot. Some men were already sprinting for home to their families and wagons. Others stood riveted in shock. Others still talked and shouted in outrage. But no one doubted for a moment that the worst was coming. There was haste, fear and anger as the news spread all over like wildfire.

Mr. Merriman's face was a mask of fury and anxiety as he stormed into the house around noon. As it happened, all of his family was home that moment, although Felicity had been getting ready to go to her Patriot Ladies sewing-circle and Nan to Ms. Manderly's. He strode into the parlor where his wife sat, mending a pair of Williams's stockings and barked, "Everyone get in here, NOW!" so loud that Mrs. Merriman jumped in her seat. "Put those away, Martha, there's no time for that anymore."

"Edward Merriman! What in the world-?"

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her up to her feet. The look in his eyes was so intense, sending the alarm bells ringing in her head as if she were the bell tower of Bruton Parish itself. "I'll explain as soon as everyone gets in here," he told her tightly. He turned his head toward the parlor doorway. "Everyone in here right NOW! Felicity, Nan, Polly, William, and Rose! NOW!"

The rapid pounding of feet descending the stairs filled the whole house, and all four Merriman children appeared, looking nervous and curious. Rose hurried in from the kitchen, where she had been slicing carrots for a stew, wiping her hands on a towelette. Mr. Merriman looked at each of them in turn, his eyes resting on Felicity with all seriousness, and announced, "Cornwallis is coming."

As he had expected, there were gasps and looks of bewildered fright among his family. But as he had also expected, it was Felicity who's expression turned outraged and angry. Mrs. Merriman said, "Dear Lord, Edward, are you sure?"

"Aye! And there's not a moment to lose. I want you and the girls to leave for King's Creek just as soon as Marcus can return with David and the carriage. He took Patriot, so he will be there in no time. I want you-"

There were cries of protest: "Father, no!" "What about you and William!" "We will not leave without you and William!" all at once. Edward Merriman put his hands up, demanding silence. "Listen to me!" he told them sharply. "According to Marcus, General Cornwallis is about four to five days away, up the James River. Ever since Arnold came through, I have had Marcus keep in touch with the slaves and plantation owners that your grandfather knew that live along the river. Word has been passed down that Cornwallis is on his way." He inhaled deeply. "So I have sent Marcus to King's Creek to fetch David. Martha, you and the girls will be safe there."

Felicity spoke next before anyone else could. "But what about you and William? Will you not come with us?"

"I won't go without Will!" cried Polly, flinging her arms around her brother, who smiled sympathetically and put an arm around her.

"Felicity, listen," Mr. Merriman said, his voice even now. "William and I will be all right. I have to stay for the sake of everything I have worked so hard to give us here. Believe me, all of you, I have anticipated this. 'Twas only a matter of time before the British invaded Williamsburg, and Benedict Arnold's stay was by no means a comparison to General Cornwallis and his men. And I would wager all that I am that Cornwallis's stay will not be brief. They need supplies..."

Mrs. Merriman laid a hand upon her husband's shoulder. "Edward...this home, the store-losing them is much preferable to losing you and our son!"

"Aye!" cried Nan in agreement.

Mr. Merriman took his wife's hand and kissed it's palm firmly. "We will be fine, love. William is nearly a man now-" (this turned eight year old William's fear suddenly to burning bravery) "I need him. I need his help. I know you will be worried, but have faith. You must have faith, Martha."

"Good God, Edward..."

Nan stepped forward, her sapphire blue eyes blazing full of tears. "But would we not be safer here with you, Father? Would the British not pass King's Creek and destroy it too?"

He placed a loving hand along Nan's cheek. "Honey, first of all, I do not trust what the British soldiers would do if they forced their way into a home where patriot women live. Do you understand? But I do trust that they will not be going in the direction of King's Creek. They most likely do not want to cross the York River again. and there is good news, too: Lafayette is nearby! He and his men have been following and taunting Cornwallis off and on. There is always hope." He turned to Martha again. "Marcus is the most clever, reliable soul in the world. Should I need to get word to you and to Mr. Tate, he can do it." His eyes flicked over his children and Rose. "Now we must not waste any more time. Girls, you must get together the things you will need most; do not take time to put together a trunk. The carriage goes faster when it is lighter. Lissie, will you ride Penny out to King's Creek?"

"Aye, Father!" she replied right away, her fear replacing itself with anger, for she knew the British would snatch by force every available horse they could get their king-loving hands on...which in turn spurred a flurry of other haphazard thoughts: "Oh, Father, what about Big Brutus? And Little Brutus! Oh my Lord, Elizabeth and Arthur!"

"Lissie, do not despair!" Mr. Merriman placed gentle, reassuring hands upon her shoulders. "I left Mr. Haverty to close the store, and he offered to stop by the Pratt's and the Coles' and tell them that they are welcome at King's Creek. Knowing Arthur, he will move heaven and earth to see that Elizabeth and her mother are safe. Apparently, even Loyalists are not safe from their own countrymen. As for Haverty and his horses, I don't know, Lissie. Caleb wants to stay and defend his property. I know how he feels."

"Edward, this is insane!" Mrs. Merriman exclaimed, unable to silence her fear for her family. "Come with us, please!" "No, love. William and I are staying. We will be all right. Now all of you ladies, go."

Wiping a tear, Martha took Nan's hand as she led the way out of the room. "Come on, Polly, Lissie, let's be quick now." She sniffed sadly.

"Come on, Rabbit," William said kindly to Polly, leading her with his arm still around her shoulders, "I'll help you get some stuff."

"Lissie," Mr. Merriman said as his eldest daughter was just about to follow Rose out. "Wait a moment. Follow me." And he led the way into his study, where he withdrew his jangly keys from a waistcoat pocket, knelt before the big leather-bound trunk near his desk. He swiftly threw back it's lid.

He withdrew the leather sack.

"The pistols, Father?" Felicity asked in a near-whisper.

"Aye. I want you to take them to King's Creek with you. There is plenty of powder in the horn and flask, enough balls..." He handed the sack to her.

She gulped, feeling eerily suspicious. "B-But won't you and Will need them?"

"No, Lissie, I have pistols of my own and William has his. Pray to God that we will not them for any reason. And that you will not need those. If all goes as I assume it will, your brother and I will not need weapons." He closed the trunk and relockled it.

"Do you think I will?" Her worried green eyes met his nervous blue ones as he rose.

"Truth be told, honey, I don't know. Be vigilant. Let Mr. Tate know he can come to you and discuss serious matters. Trust your instincts. Think. I don't know any better advice to give you than that."

"'Tis all I need!" She kissed her father's cheek and hurried out of the room, gripping the considerably weighty leather sack in her hands tightly. _I will not give in to fear_! _Fear will NOT rule me_. _I shall fear only the Lord God_. _I will NOT fear Lord Cornwallis and his foul army_!

_Dear God_, _Ben Davidson_, _where_ ARE _you_?

'Twas late that afternoon when the carriage arrived with David, it's driver, and faithful Marcus. Felicity had Penny saddled and waiting. She was very thankful Marcus had ridden Patriot to King's Creek and left him there. The young black horse was already safe. She wore her riding habit, and Father had fixed the leather sack of pistols to Penny's saddle for her, just in case...anything should happen. Father felt certain their ride to the plantation should be safe, for he had to remind his wife and Nan that it was the James River that Cornwallis was traveling along, not the York.

Standing just outside the Merriman home with Polly, Nan, William, Mr. and Mrs. Merriman was Elizabeth and Arthur. Felicity's two best friends stood a little apart from the others, hugging and whispereing their goodbyes, for Mrs. Cole insisted that Elizabeth go with Felicity to King's Creek. Mrs. Cole wanted to stay with the house, and Arthur offered to remain with Mrs. Cole, for he believed it simply appalling that his future Mama-in-law should be alone when the British came.

Felicity had quietly asked her father, "But surely Loyalist soldiers would not harm their own countrymen and women? Mrs. Cole is a very kind, generous Loyalist. Surely she and her home would not be harmed?"

"I don't know, Lissie," Mr. Merriman replied, so that none of the others could hear. "Desperate men commit desperate, senseless acts no matter what side they are on. I have seen it happen before. Arthur is a noble, brave lad to stay with Elizabeth's mother like this. Better mount up, my brave girl, the carriage is here."

Felicity hugged her father as hard as she could. She felt his gentle kiss upon the top of her head. "Be safe, Father." She stepped back, sniffed, placed her riding habit's tricorn hat on her head, and met his eyes as a look of grim understanding passed between them. Felicity nodded. I will be brave for my family. I will be brave for you, Father. I can do this. As Nan and Polly stepped into their father's arms, Felicity turned to William.

"I can be brave like you are, Lissie," William told her, sounding remakably grown up for an eight year old. "Father says I'm a man now!"

So you will not be so afraid, no doubt! thought Felicity with a gentle smile. She grabbed his dark red head and kissed the top of it. "Well, if you're a man, what does that make me?"

William laughed. "A wo-_man_!" Merriman humor could not be helped, nor was it possible to stop. In a serious tone, however, he said, "Take care, Lissie. Keep an eye on Polly for me, okay?"

"Of course I will. Take care of Father...you big man!"

They hugged. Polly flew into the arms of her brother and best friend as Felicity went to Penny and gathered up the patiently waiting mare's reins. She glanced back and saw her mother and father kissing and embracing. Elizabeth and Arthur were doing the same. Felicity thought longingly of Ben.

Arthur bid his goodbyes to the ladies as he assisted each of them into the carriage with their necessary bags. He kissed Elizabeth ever so romantically one last time and closed the carriage door gently. Watching it slowly pull away, he sighed heavily. Felicity stopped Penny in front of him long enough to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. Then both carriage and Felicity disappeared on down the dry dirt road.

Arthur Pratt sighed yet again as he found Mr. Merriman and young William standing at his side. In a forlorn voice so unlike his usual pluckiness, he mumbled, "I do so love that girl..."

"Who, Felicity?" William asked, confused.

The blond Brit smiled at the boy. "Oh, of course I love your Felicity- she is my second dearest friend. She is the fourth sister I've always wanted! But I was referring to my first dearest friend, my fiance Elizabeth!"

"Oh." William grinned and felt quite silly.

Mr. Merriman placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You are an admirable young man, Arthur, for staying with Mrs. Cole."

"Thank you, sir." It always made him feel good to be praised by those whom he held in high regard, but with the stress of what was coming weighing depressingly upon him, he could only feel desolate. "Might I ask you a question, Mr. Merriman?"

"Of course, Arthur, anything." Mr. Merriman smiled kindly.

"Are you frightened, sir? Of the soldiers that are coming, that is?"

"Somewhat," replied Mr. Merriman with his cryptic smile. "But knowing that I am prepared and that my loved ones are safe gives me strength. Having William here with me to help gives me strength. Trust in what you know, Arthur, not in what might be or could be. I tell my children that all the time."

"Aye, he does!" William testified, nodding vigorously. "All the time, he does!"

Arthur smiled, a little bit of his cheerfulness restored. "But 'tis strange, Mr. Merriman, the Coles and I come from England, where we used to see the King's soldiers all over the place, here and there, and we thought nothing of it. Both of our families are acquainted with other families who have sons and husbands in the service of the King's army. But the notion of the King's army coming into Williamsburg to take what they want by force, to quarter themselves wherever they want by force and do the Lord only knows what-" here he had to inhale for breath "-that frightens me more than the idea of getting the pox! Why is that, sir?"

Mr. Merriman's smile was sympathetic. "I believe you just answered your own question, Arthur. But to add to it, I shall say no one, Loyalist or Patriot, likes to be forced to do something, or have threats imposed upon them, especially by men with weapons." He scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. "No one wants the things that they have worked so hard for taken from them or the people they love harmed and abused. 'Tis very understandable. No good ever came of force, I've always thought."

"I believe that, too, sir," said Arthur. "I know there are many in this town who insist that my family and I need to choose one side or the other, but truth be told, sir, we have not truly desired either side. We Pratts would rather remain neutral."

"And so that is your right, Arthur Pratt," Mr. Merriman told him proudly. "Which brings to mind another wrong I have seen before: trying to force people to believe as others do, even threatening them with death if they do not."

Arthur sighed. 'Twas time he was headed for Mrs. Cole's house now. Though it was a few days until the estimated time of Cornwallis' arrival, he still wanted to see to it that Elizabeth's mother and his own parents would have provisions safely hidden when the army came. He found himself actually wishing and mentally praying that the Marquis de Lafayette would stop Cornwallis before he blew in.  
But of course history would not have it that way.

Mr. Merriman didn't quite feel like eating. He was much too tense. General Lord Cornwallis had been in Williamsburg for three days now, and each of those three days had passed like a snail's crawl. At least eight year old William was taking it all in stride: the young man still had a healthy appetite. Edward didn't feel like filling his own mouth with food this evening. It was most likely because of the four British Captains that had imposed quarters on the Merriman household that were now dining at his own table with him and William.

Aye, that was certainly the problem.

They were redcoat captains Digby, Wiggins, Plumb and Humphries. Captain Digby was rarely, if ever, seen without a wig on. He was in his twenties, straight-backed and pointy nosed, and asked many questions. Captain Wiggins, who wore no wig at all, was always sleepy and mumbley, even when he was awake he seemed a second away from falling into deep sleep-he was ever being elbowed in the ribs by someone, not that it did much good. Captain Plumb was the most talkative one, even though he was missing his two front top teeth, and he sounded quite funny. Captain Humphries was the oldest of the four at age thirty, had a big round belly that he was always patting. He could neither sit nor stand without grunting.

The four hot and weary captains had arrived on Edward Merriman's doorstep the first afternoon of British occupation, with Captain Digby calling out, "Hullo there! Who are you, and who's home is this?"

"I am Edward Merriman," replied Edward Merriman casually, standing in his own doorway, "owner of Merriman's Store, and this is my home."

"Indeed!" said Captain Digby, glancing over his shoulder at the plump Captain Humphries, who was struggling to hold up the tall, lanky Captain Wiggins, who was attempting to sleep whilst standing up. Digby rolled his tired eyes. "Be you Patriot or Loyalist?"

"Patriot, my good sir," proudly replied Mr. Merriman. "And the name is Merriman."

"Indeed," Digby said again. His eyes flicked over the house's exterior. "No doubt you know that my fellow captains and I are in the service of General Cornwallis of his Majesty's Royal Army, and we mean to have quarter in this home until furthur notice." Behind him, Captain Wiggins twitiched and snorted. "Will you be offering resistence, Mr. Merriweather?"

Mr. Merriman had been expecting this, but even so he did not like it. Yet he wouldn't refuse them, for they were armed soldiers and they would have their way. The less violence the better. In reply he said, "No, sir, I will not. I simply ask that you show my home the same respect and decency that I would like to show you."

Digby lifted his chin, suspecting. "You would not defy us?"

"Again, no sir." Mr. Merriman smiled thinly. "I am but a shopkeeper, and nor do I wish to invoke violence, especially when I am unarmed and you are...well armed. 'Twould make no sense."

"Oh, thank heaven!" Digby sighed, all of his tension, haughty demeanor and militant stiffness passing from his rigid frame. Behind him, Captains Plumb and Humphries exhaled in tremendous relief.

Captain Wiggins fliched himself awake and smiled sleepily.

"We are quite pooped, you see Mr. Merriweather. We are not exactly in the mood for enforcement."

Mr. Merriman opened his door, stepped back, albeit reluctantly. "Do come in, gentlemen. My son and I were just about to sit down to dinner...as it were." He looked pained.

The four captains staggered in wearily, although Wiggins had to be dragged in, more or less, and thus began the British occupation of the Merriman household.

So, upon this third day of occupation, Mr. Merriman sat at his dinner table, feeling too stressed to eat because he knew the topic of the lack of womenfolk around the house would eventually come up, and eventually he would have to think of an explanation. He glanced at eight year old William, who was eating most heartilly on his chicken dinner, as were the four captains.

"I say, Mr. Merriwesser," chirped young Captain Plumb, who lacked his two top front teeth, "'Sis iss a mosst delissious chicken! My praiss to your black man!"

"Um, thank you, Captain Plumb," said Mr. Merriman nervously. William made a nasal noise akin to that of someone trying hard not to laugh. Little did the redcoat captains know that they were feasting upon the last of the Merriman's chickens, for Marcus, William, and Mr. Merriman had killed and ate most of them just days before to keep them from being stolen by plundering British soldiers.

"Goodness, yes," agreed Digby. "Such excellent cooking, for a slave man. Pray, how is it you do not have a servant woman?"

"Well," gulped Edward, "I have not sought out any female house servants of any kind since my wife-" and he stopped, not knowing quite how to say what he was thinking, and his mouth had gone dry.

He needn't have finished, for the ever inquisitive Digby was quick to inquire, "And what of your wife, Mr. Merriweather? Now that we have been rested and refreshed, we have noticed that there are womanly things about, yet there are no women here. How is that?"

Edward shifted in his seat. William suddenly whimpered and blurted, "My mother and sisters are gone, sir!"

"Gone?" Digby said, a well-arched eyebrow shooting up. "Gone where?"

William's blue eyes filled with tears as Mr. Merriman gaped at him. "We d-don't like t-to say the word out loud, sir!"

Captain Humphries, who had been listening along as he ate, made a startled gurgling sound in his thick throat, and said, "Dead, ye mean?"

"Please, sirs!" William cried, his hands clapping over his little ears. "Please don't say that horrible word!" And he began to sob exaggeratingly.

As the four captains looked at each other in astonishment and surprise, it occurred to Edward that his son was pretending. Anyone who knew William knew that he wasn't a cry-baby, but these British soldiers did not know William. And obviously, they didn't know when a sly eight year old was feigning grief. Edward Merriman was struck speechless.

"Oh no, don' ye cry, boy!" Humphries said, genuinely touched by the young lad's tears. "I didn' mean ter make ye cry! Jes'-jes'-don' ye cry so!" The plump man's eyes filled.

Digby stared at William. "Why, what happened to your mother and sisters, lad? What could make such a spry young man and his father so sad?"

"Was it th' pox?" Humphries blurted, sniffing, before William or Mr. Merriman could even think of an answer. "'Twas th' pox, wasn' it? I had me a baby boy in Liverpool-that's where I'm from, see-an' th' pox took 'im when 'e was but a month!" The fat captain's shoulders began to shake as his own personal woes threatend to errupt loudly. "We got good men in our company with it. Everyone's gettin' it! Methinks I'd rather be shot by th' enemy!" He began to cry, too.

Digby blinked awkwardly at his fellow captain's display of emotion, then turned back to William, put a sympathetic hand on the young man's shoulder. "'Twas the pox, wasn't it, my boy."

By way of response, William howled anew with grief, which in turn spurred Humphries to sob louder, and that woke the nodding Captain Wiggins, who just stared drowzily in confusion at Humphries. Captain Plumb, touched by emotion, grabbed up his napkin and blew his long nose into it.

"We don' want ter be here," Humphries blubbered on. "We jes' do what we're told to, see? It's hot here! Like hell, it is! How can ye stand it, Merriman? Th' heat and the damp! We don' have weather like this in Englan', ye see! How do ye bear it, Merriman?"

"I, uh, well..." Mr. Merriman could not form a sentence to answer with, for he didn't know which flabbergasted him more: the crying or the fact that one of them had finally gotten his name right.

"We came through Georgia and the Southernmost Carolina," Digby told Mr. Merriman wearily, recalling his own miseries there. "God All Mighty, the midges there must've been almost as big as mine own hand! Never have I endured such miseries!"

Nodding, Captain Wiggins yawned in agreement.

As Humphries continued his convulsive weeping, Captain Plumb said (as best he could, for he had not his front top teeth), "I wass hoping to be casured sso I could be got out o' se swamp!"

"Do shut up, Captain Plumb," Digby snapped. "Put some of that biscuit where your teeth should be!" To Mr. Merriman he said, "I must appologize for my fellow officers' foolishness, Mr. Merriweather. This wretched heat has addled us all. Our troubles have been as such to include swarms of flies that seemed to have followed us up from the swamps." He sighed irritably. "That alone would be worth giving up this confounded war for!"

"Aye," moaned Captain Humphries, who had finally gotten a hold of himself. William was now pretending to be blowing his nose into his napkin to keep from laughing at Captain Wiggins, who's head had rolled back upon his neck, mouth open in mindless sleep once again.

Mr. Merriman sighed. Even though his four 'guests' were not the volatile, bullying type, they were still a drain on his nerves. He was also sore tempted to walk down to his store and see if anything remained of it, for the past few nights he had heard the breaking of glass somewheres nearby, the hollering and laughing of drunken British soldiers, and smelled smoke in the air when he had stepped outside. He had no doubt what so ever that homes and businesses were being plundered like mad. He had expected that. He'd prepared for that. But it would still be nice to know wheteher or not he still had a building to call a store! He hadn't wanted to leave the house the past few days, for he knew all too well that his business would be in a shambles (what he had opted to leave in the store, anyway), but now he was getting curious.

Best put it out of your head for now, Ed ol' boy, he told himself mentally. Tonight you must give Marcus a message to take out to King's Creek. Martha and the girls must be worried sick! And I must know how they are faring as well.

Surely all is well for them out there!

Chapter 4 FINISHED!


	9. Chapter 5: Terror At King's Creek

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE Part 2, CH. 5: Terror At King's Creek

The handsome downstairs parlor of King's Creek plantation house was eerily silent. No fire was burning in the massive fireplace, for it was a rather warm summer evening, but plenty of candles were lit for the convenience of the women attempting to pass time with their sewing and reading. Martha Merriman sat on a two-seater sofa trying to concentrate on monogramming new handkerchiefs for her husband, Nan was trying to finish the mending of her little brother William's cotton stockings that her mother had been previously working on at home, Polly was quietly eating a wooden bowl full of popcorn as she sat on the floor beside her eldest sister Felicity's skirts, and Felicity herself was trying to concentrate on reading a book about Greek art that her friend Arthur Pratt had passed along to her. Beside Felicity sat her best friend Elizabeth, who was half-heartedly trying to read a book on Shakespeare's sonnets that she had selected from the house's library. All five females were so wrapped up in their individual thoughts and worries that hardly a one of them had spoken for over an hour.

For Felicity Merriman, that had been way too long. She was only lengthfully quiet when she slept. She shut the book about Greek art with a loud _pop! _making the others jump. When she saw them staring at her in surprise, she muttered, "I cannot read any more! I cannot sew. I simply cannot think of anything but Father and William!" She sighed miserably. "And Ben...wherever _he _is."

"I know, Lissie," Mrs. Merriman said softly. "I'm worried, too, but if I just sit about idle I'll worry myself sick. You must keep busy, remember? We all agreed to."

Little Polly twisted around so that she could look up at her sister. "Try sitting on your hands, Lissie!"

Felicity leaned over, grinned, and tweaked the girl's perky little nose that was so like her own. "And if I did that, Rabbit-Child, how would I keep my _feet _occupied?"

Polly giggled, pushed her bowl of popped corn into Felicity's lap. "Here. You can have this. I've had all I want. You can have some, too, Elizabeth."

"Thank you very much, Miss Rabbit," Elizabeth gladly took a handful to much on.

"I _could _go out and check on the horses," Felicity told her mother suggestively.

"Oh no you don't, Felicity Merriman!" her mother scolded right away. "_None _of us are to go outside after dark unless the house is on fire!"

Felicity sighed. "Yes, Mother."

"Besides," Mrs. Merriman added sternly, "Robert is a fully capable stable-master. if there was anything wrong with the horses, he would notify Mr. Tate, and Mr. Tate would then let _us _know about it."

Polly crinkled her mouth in her sister's defence. "But Lissie isn't afraid of _anything_!"

Nan laughed. "But Polly, there might be something out there that is afraid of _Lissie_!"

Grinning, Felicity threw a couch pillow at Nan, who shrieked girlishly and ducked.

Mrs. Merriman smiled at them. Ordinarilly she would have fussed at such ungentlewomanly behavior, but under her family's stressing circumstances, she greatly preferred laughter to tears. Knowing that right at this moment General Cornwallis was in possession of Williamsburg, and that not one, not two, not three, but _four _British captains had imposed quarter on her home where her only son and beloved husband were (according to the letter that brave, quick Marcus had delivered to them on foot last night!) was enough to stenuously burden her heart. But her husband and son, Marcus had reported, were well and keeping their wits about them, so she was determined to keep faith. _Let my girls, Elizabeth included, find humor where they may, _she prayed mentally, _and let this separation be over soon!_

"I'm not in the mood for popped corn," Felicity said, passing the wooden bowl over to Elizabeth. "_You _finish. I might as well turn in, because I just can't get my mind to be quiet any other way."

"Try some warm milk," suggested Elizabeth helpfully.

"Loosen your stays," suggested Nan, also helpfully.

"Let your head hang down over the stair railing and count to one and hundred!" suggested Polly, also-also helpfully.

"Go to bed, Felicity," Mrs. Merriman said flatly.

Felicity went.

'Twas in the night that she woke with a start, however. Not because of any nightmare or the bed chamber being too warmish, but because once again a voice inside her head was urging her. _Wake up! Wake up! _She sat up frowning hard, as if she was sore irritated at being roused by someone other than herself. There was just enough moonlight filtering in through the gauzy curtains in the windows for her to see that Elizabeth was still fast asleep beside her, oblivious to any urgent voices. Felicity sighed irritably. Apparently, she was the only one in the house prone to these kind of things.

She thought about lying back down and shrugging off the sense of urgency, for being woken from a sound sleep was a rotten thing, but Felicity's curiosity, as usual, got the better of her. She moved slowly, so as to not wake Elizabeth, and walked half-zombie like to a window so she could look out and about for the hell of it. Yawning softly, her half-open eyes drifted lazily over the grounds, the barn, the over-seer's cottage...

...and froze. Her green eyes went wide. Chills ran up and down her spine in every direction. She clutched the window sill with two fear-whitened hands. She was bearing horrified witness to two redcoats slinking along the front of the brick overseer's cottage in which, Mr. Tate resided.

Panic sprang up in her chest. She faught the nearly over-whelming urge to yelp, holler, scream, and/or shout, and any combination of the afore-mentioned. Her mind raced like mad. She whirled, her heart pounding like a blacksmith's hammer, and snatched up her day dress (the one with the built-in stays!). And just what did she think she was going to do? She hadn't a clue! Her wildly trembling fingers tied up the front laces. Her breathing was already ragged as she struggled not to make a peep. She shoved her feet into their black shoes, and in a flurry of tippie-toes sped to the wardrobe, where she pulled out the leather sack.

What _did _she think she was going to do?

_OhGodOhGodOhGod, what am I going to do? _Her face wore an expression of panic-frenzy as she quickly exited the room. 'Twas astounding that she had not woken Elizabeth. The punding of her pulse in her ears was so loud that she felt it could've shook the entire house! And as soon as she stepped out into the nearly pitch-black hallway, white movement out of the corner of her right eye made her gasp intensely-

Nan!

Felicity clutched painfully at her heart with her free hand. Ben's signal whistle swung wildly around her neck. Nan hurried up to her, a harsh "Ssshh!" issuing from her lips. She grabbed hold of Felicity's nearest arm. "You've seen them, haven't you?" Nan whispered frightfully.

"Yes!" Felicity whispered back. "How did _you _know? And what are you doing dressed?"

"I fell asleep reading to Polly before I could change. I woke up to go close the window before I changed, when I noticed those two soldiers out there snooping around the ale-house! So I came to get you." In the near-dark, the whites of Nan's eyes were noticeably wide. "Why are _you _dressed?"

"I just _got _dressed! I woke up feeling all funny about something and when I looked outside, I saw them outside of Mr. Tate's cottage!"

"What should we do?"

Felicity steeled her fear. "I'm going out there," she told Nan solemnly.

"Felicity, _no_!"

"Yes. I'm going to go see what they're about and if they mean to steal our horses!"

Nan's hands were trembling. "Oh, Lissie, please don't! If they see you- oh, don't!"

For some bizarre reason Felicity would ponder sometime later, Nan's trembling fear was civing her courage. She forced her own throat to swallow. "We are _not _going to be victims, Nan. If you want to wake Mother, go ahead. But I'm going to go out there and see what they're up to. I don't intend to let them see me. Now I'm going!" And she tippie-toed as best as she could toward the staircase, considering there was precious little light to move around by.

Nan gulped. "I'm going with you!"

"No you're not!" Felicity whispered back firmly.

"Oh yes I am!" At the top of the stairs, Nan bumped into her older sister lightly. "Sorry."

"Go back, Nan!"

"No! You cannot go alone!"

A highly-tensed, frustrated moment passed. There was just no time to argue the matter! "Fine!" Felicity whispered tightly. "Stay close to me and do _not _make a sound!"

"Fine!"

The two sisters proceeded down the shadowy staircase, into the foyer, which was a little more lit by moolight. With her free hand she grabbed Nan's nearest and pulled her along as she led the way toward the big house's back door. "Where are we going?" Nan whispered worriedly.

"The barn," Felicity whspered back with a touch of irritation, but it was not directed toward Nan. She was thinking of the redcoat soldiers. "I'll wager everything thery're going to steal horses- or try to. I just can't allow that!"

"But Lissie, there may be more than two soldiers. I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Then stay inside, like I wanted you to anyway," Felicity told her absently as they came to the shadowy mini-kitchen. A patch of moonlight fell through the curtains onto the preparation table under it. She led the way to it.

"I said I was going with you! It's still not a good idea, though, that's all." It was then that Nan noticed the brown leather sack that her sister was carrying. "What is that you have there?"

"You'll see." Felicity leaned over the table, into the window, so that she could peep out. Sure enough, the two Loyalist soldiers were slinking to the barn! 'Twas odd though, they both seemed to be staggering and unbalanced.

"What do you see?" Nan desperately wanted to know.

"I see _them_. And they _are _going for the barn! But I do believe they are drunk, Nan!"

Nan bit her bottom lip. "How can you tell?'

"By the way they are lurching about. They're either drunk, wounded, or just plain stupid. Seeing as how they just came from the ale house, I would assume drunk! Ooo, I hate the thought of them being into Grandfather's apple wines! But we must hurry." Hastily, Felicity put the heavy sack on the table and started rumaging through it, pulling items out. "I also assume that it's only the two of them for now, because if there were more soldiers they would have burst right into the house and woke everyone up and-"

"_Felicity_!" Nan whisper-hissed in absolute shock, making her sister jump. "Those are firing pistols! How did you-!"

Felicity swiftly clamped a hand over Nan's mouth. "Sshh! Calm down or you'll wake everyone!" She sighed with agitation. Apparently she was going to have to break her promise to Father about not telling any 'unapproved persons' about their dealings with the flintlocks, but that could not be helped and there certainly wasn't time to debate the issue. In Felicity Merriman's mind she was doing what she thought was best. Mr. Tate was not present. Fie! Mr. Tate could even be _dead_! There was no telling how long those soldiers had been on the grounds or how many there really were running around out there, or what all they'd been up to _before _they got drunk!

"Listen to me, Nan, and listen up good," Felicity whispered fast and firmly. "Will you?" Nan nodded urgently, and Felicity removed her hand from over the young teen's mouth. "Not long ago, Father took me out to one of Mr. Haverty's fields and taught me how to use and handle these pistols of Grandfather's. He thought it might come in handy sometime, and he was right. Now I'm going to load them and go out there, and try to find out what they're doing. I will tell you one more time that I'd prefer you to stay here. But if you come with me, you _must _be quiet and do exactly as I tell you. What is it going to be?"

The deadly seriousness in her older sister's voice and the way Felicity had begun to load the pistols there in the moonlit patch gripped Nan intensely. Obviously Felicity knew what she was doing. Nan gulped, licked her dry lips and whispered, "I will come with you, Lissie. I will do exactly as you tell me."

Felicity had never heard Nan sound so determined. With the hands she had to force not to shake, she continued loading the pistols as fast as she could. She still had nary a clue as to what she was doing, even if she appeared to have Nan convinced, but what she _did _know was that her fear of the British soldiers was rapidly turning to anger. All the atrocities she'd heard about-the burning of homes, the plundering and stealing and forcefulness-of the British army had her raging inside. Why, General Cornwallis himself was not too far away at this very moment, in Williamsburg, where his men were most likely turning the whole town upside down. _Four _British captains were residing in her home with her dear father and brother!

Nothing dampened fear better than anger!

Felicity grimaced. No way she could hold both pistols steady in either hand. She turned to Nan, who'd been watching her with wide eyes. "I want you to carry this. Use both hands. 'Tis cocked and ready to be fired so you must hold it carefully. Hold the barrel with one hand and the stock with the other. _Do not _pull that-that's called the trigger, it fires the gun. Just hold it like that and you'll be fine. Now let's go!"

As Felicity quietly and smoothly unlatched the back door, Nan steeled her grip on the heavy pistol, determined not to fail her sister. She didn't know whether to be impressed or frightened by Felicity's knowledge. Or both. Aye, the British soldiers scared her, but there was some comfort in Felicity's fearlessness. Indeed, Lissie seemed to be more angry than scared.

Felicity opened the door a crack, then whispered quietly, "Remember: stay close to me and be quiet."

"Yes, yes!"

The elder sister slowly opened the door just enough so that they could slip out. Felicity looked right and then left and saw no one either direction. The two soldiers had slipped into the barn. She reached back with her free hand and touched Nan's closest arm. "Let's go."

The two girls, staying close together, slinked off the back porch and into the shadows of the trees and shrubery lining the path to the barn. Felicity's eyes darted about in their sockets, looking for any other kinds of movement, welcome or not. She sure did wish that someone else, be it Mr. Tate, Robert the stable-master, David the carriage driver, or any one of the black plantation residents that still lived and worked freely here at King's Creek were with her. For all she knew about the situation, the two British soldiers had killed Mr. Tate, David, _and _the black families, and _then _got piss drunk on Grandfather's apple wines and decided to make off on the best horses they could find in the barn-which would have been Penny and Patriot, of course.

So were these soldiers deserters of their own army? Scouts sent to kill whom they could and then steal what they could? As she and Nan crept to the side of the barn, Felicity's stomach did flip-flops when she saw the flickereing light of a lantern lit inside the barn. She glanced over at Mr. Tate's little brick cottage and wondered worriedly if she should send Nan to go in and see about him...see if he was still alive or not. No! There might be a soldier or two still in there, and Nan wouldn't know what to do with the pistol in a pinch! Just because there wasn't any light to be seen in the cottage didn't mean there wouldn't be anyone lurking about. Aye, 'twas best they stick together.

Felicity motioned for Nan to crouch down. Clutching the gun in her white hands, Nan immediately did so. They were under one of the barn windows. Felicity slowly rose, inch by inch, attempting to look in through the glass, which, thankfully, had not been washed lately and therefore had a few layers of grime upon it that would obscure any face that happened to be peeping in. On the down side, it also obscured much of any activity on the _inside_.

"What do you see?" Nan asked, in barely a whisper.

Felicity grimaced. Her knees and ankles were getting sore crouching like this. "There is definately a lantern lit," she whispered back nervously. "Can't see much at all...oh!"

"What, what!" Nan urged hoarsely.

"I see one of them! Opening Patriot's stall door! Oh, Nan, I cannot let them take Patriot!"

"Where is the other one?"

"Right here, missy!" exclaimed a drunken male voice. Gasping, both girls whirled in time to see a redcaoted soldier looming right over them. In the moonlight he looked like a scarecrow come to life, what with his unkempt hair wild and flying out of its queue, his private's uniform tattered, torn and filthy, his legs lanky and wobbley with acoholic intoxication, and his arms raised up with the full intention of grabbing.

Nan instinctively squealed in fright and scrabbled to her right as Felicity dove to the left and the rougish soldier staggered forward, plowing right into the window sill drunkenly. Indeed, he had gotten his fill of Grandfather's apple wines, for the smell of it was heavy in the air suddenly.

"Nan, come on!" Felicity cried, holding her free hand out to her sister. The time for silence was now over. Nan flew to Felicity, clutching the pistol in one hand and grabbing Felicity's with the other. Felicity led the way around to the back of the barn, for she felt in her terrified mind that the drunken soldier's companion would come running out of the front of the barn, for that was where the nearest entrance/exit would be to Patriot's stall.

Sure enough, upon hearing the sudden commotion, the second soldier had come running, but instead of coming out of the front, he staggered out of the back door just as Felicity and Nan came around, surprising them both.

"Well, what have we here?" the bearded man snarled sluggishly, swaying as he stood before them. Felicity hauled Nan behind her quickly as the man teetered forward. "_Two _little missies! And here I've been, three years without a woman!" Louder, he called, "Come around, Simms, there's one fer the both of us!"

"Oh no you don't!" Felicity said through clenched teeth. "Stay back or I'll shoot this thing!"

The soldier leered ghoulishly at her and swiped his dirty black cuff across his mouth. "You? Shoot a pistol at me, you pretty little tart? Bah! C'mere, damn ye!"

Nan shrieked as the man lunged at them and Felicity fired the pistol, which went off with a loud _pow! _and a burst of smoke, sending her sidestepping to the right. The soldier groaned in shock and reeled back, dropping his sabre and clutching at his chest. Ultimately, he fell to his knees. Gasping in horror, Felicity saw that not only had she shot him, but she had shot him _square in the chest_. At close range. Trickles of blood escaped through his fingers as he held his hands over the gaping wound.

"She shot me!" the dying soldier exclaimed in a gurgle. "The lil' bitch shot me!" Wide eyed and unblinking, he fell forward, stone dead at Felicity's feet.

Dogs had begun barking somewhere close by. Felicity whirled around, sensing immediate movement near her, and saw that the first British soldier had reganed consciousness and dashed at Nan, whom he now had by the arms. Nan had flung the pistol away from herself in fear when she had been grabbed from behind, and now the struggling soldier was trying to hold on to nan and go after it at the same time, but without success.

Felicity had espied a dagger in its sheath on the dead soldier's belt. Without thinking, she grabbed it, whipped it out, and held it at her side in the shadows of her skirts as she pointed her now empty pistol at the soldier struggling with Nan.

"Let her go, NOW!" she screamed, fear replacing itself with raw anger. God willing, this man did not know she was holding an empty pistol.

"Don't be daft, girl," the soldier warned groggily, his grip on Nan's arms surprisingly firm despite his drunken, scarecrow-like frame. "Put the gun down! Toss it over 'ere by me. Quick, or I'll snap 'er neck!"

Clenching her teeth, Felicity slung her empty pistol toward his feet, but her arm was shaking so bad from being tired it landed in the grass at least four feet to the left of his boots. Believeing this to be his opportunity to regain control, the grungy soldier shoved Nan away from him and lunged for the gun, grabbed it up as Felicity came barrelling towards him, and pulled the trigger.

_Click! _Nothing.

"What the 'ell!"

"Nan, run!" Felicity cried as she flung herself into the man bodily, knocking him and herself to the ground. She struggled to get up as fast as she could while keeping a firm hold on her hidden dagger, but the soldier was already trying to pin her beneath him.

"Be still, ye damn wench!" the frenzied redcoat spat. "You'll do, just like this!"

He made to grab at her wrists and hurt her into being still, so that he could begin his savage assault, but Felicity put the last of her strength into squirming, bringing up the dagger. The ogre had taken hold of her wrists, and unbeknownst to him, helped add speed into Felicity's running the blade into his own chest! He went stiff in shock, gasping in surprise with his eyes bulging. Felicity grimaced and pushed at the dagger hilt, the adrenaline rushing through her like mad. The man heaved several grunts as he began falling forward, and Felicity did her best to push him off. Quickly she pushed, getting herself out of his way.

She scrambled away from the dying man, shakily getting to her feet. There was blood on her hands and on the bodice of her dress, but it definately wasn't hers. Indeed, the blade of the dagger was deeply embedded in the man's upper chest, and his dirty linen shirt was now soaked in it.

Sickened, Felicity staggered back from him, panting in horror, but abruptly backed into something, or _someone_, rather, and spun about, half-shrieking, as she confronted a tall man who was dressed in a sharp white uniform. Under a black cocked hat he wore a stark white wig. The collar of his white uniform stood almost right under his chin. A gold metallic gorget graced the base of his throat and shone brilliantly in the moonlight. He grasped her shoulders with white gloved hands to steady her. The epaulette on his left shoulder with colored silk fringe identified him as a lieutenant. A _French _lieutenant!

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est_?*" asked he, looking in astonishment at the two dead redcoats. "_Mais quest-ce qui se passe_?*" He then looked Felicity up and down, his expression turning to startled concern as he took in the sight of the dark blood on Felicity's front. "_Mon Dieu!*_'

"Felicity! Oh, Felicity!" Nan came running to her and flung her arms about her sister intensely. Behind Nan two other French soldiers came jogging up, with their muskets drawn. They immediately began to inspect the two dead British soldiers. "Are you hurt, Lissie!"

"N-No," Felicity murmured, in somewhat of a daze. "This blood on me...isn't mine. Are _you _okay? Who-where did these-?" She glanced at the french soldiers, dumbfounded.

"When you told me to run, I ran," Nan said hurriedly. "And I ran right into these French soldiers! They had heard the gunshot, and I had to tell them in French that two British soldiers were trying to kill us, so they said to lead the way." She inhaled quickly. "I'm all right, Lissie. Oh, you were so brave!" She hugged Felicity again, even harder.

"Madamoiselle," began the French soldier whom Felicity had run into, but as Felicity just stared at the ground, Nan, in her expertly well-versed French, rapidly began explaining who they were and what this place was. Mr. Tate's cottage door had come open and he staggered out with a thin trickle of blood coming from his left forehead. Felicity was startled out of her stupor and ran to him. His two beagles were barking and running around excitedly.

"Miss Felicity!" Mr. Tate exclaimed as she came to hold his arm and get him steadied. "What happened to you? Where are those two redcoated sons of bitches? They knocked me out-now who are the hell are _they_?" He gaped at the sight of at least fifteen more white-uniformed French soldiers emerging from the shadows. Some of them held brightly lit torches.

"FELICITY! NAN! Oh my God!" It was Mrs. Merriman, holding her plaid robe together as she ran towards them from the house. She was being led by young ten year old Samson, the very helpful son of Aaron, the Plantation's planter-in-chief. Running along at full tilt behind him and Mrs. Merriman was Elizabeth and Polly, who were also robed and calling out to the two sisters.

Nan quickly turned to the French leader and told him who was approaching from the house. In turn, the leader beckoned hastily to one of his privates. By now there were at least twenty French soldiers collected on the grounds behind the barn. They talked among themselves for the most, and watched Mrs. Merriman come streaking to her daughters and Mr. Tate, who was being assisted upon his other side by a helpful French private.

"Nan! Mr. Tate! Felicity, what-oh my Lord, you're bleeding!"

"No, Mother, this isn't my blood-"

"Thank God!" Holding Nan with one arm, she reached for Felicity with the other, looking absolutely terror-stricken.

"Who are all these men, Lissie?" Polly hollored, bobbing up and down. Some of the Frenchmen chuckled kindly at her.

"Why, they're French!" said Elizabeth with wild fascination. "And there are two British soldiers on the ground- oh, they're dead!"

Mrs. Merriman couldn't have been more perplexed or nearer to panic. "Will someone please tell me what in the name of all that is sacred is GOING ON HERE?" Her face was an interesting mix of shock and impatientce.

She was, after all, a Merriman.

CHAPTER FINISHED!  
"Qu'est-ce que c'est"-"What is this?"  
"Mais quest-ce qui se passe?"-"What is going on here?"  
"Mon Dieu!"-"My God!"


	10. Chapter 6: An INDECENT Propsal

Chapter 6: An INDECENT Proposal

In the course of half an hour, it was learned that the French soldiers had been separated from their regiment during a night-time skirmish with the British in Maryland, and had been trying to get back to them for days. The officer Felicity had bumped into was the men's Lieutenant, by the surname Richou, and the young blond private whom he had summoned to translate for him was named Private Lucien LaCroix, who told the Merriman ladies and Mr. Tate, "For a few days we go zis way, and zen for a few days we go zat way, and then we come to ze reever and we cross eet! Still we do not find Lafayette! Zen we find zis lovely ladee" (Here he kindly gestured toward Nan), "who eez in trouble wiz' ze Breeteesh, but zis red headed mademoiselle, she alreddy give zem what for, non?" He grinned brightly.

"Felicity!" Mrs. Merriman cried aghast. "You-you-you k-killed those two B-British soldiers by yourself?"

"Yes, Mother, I did," Felicity sighed wearily.

Nan stepped forward. "if she hadn't, they would have hurt us in unimaginable ways! She was ever so brave, Mother! I know what you're thinking-why were we out here in the first place? Because both Lissie and I noticed them prowling the grounds. Lissie was determined not to let them steal our horses, and I was determined not to let her go alone!" She lifted her chin proudly.

This proud gesture did not go unnoticed by the young blond Private LaCroix, who beheld thirteen year old Nanette Merriman in the light of the moon with an admirable smile. He himself could not have been any more than seventeeen.

Mr. Tate, holding to his forehead a once pristine hanky given to him by a Frenchman, verbally came to Felicity's support. "Ma'am, they knocked me unconscious when I found 'em in my kitchen. As far as I know there were only two of 'em, but I'd bet all of King's Creek they meant to do serious mischief, including stealing our horses!" To Felicity, he said "Miss Felicity, you have more courage than a lot of men I know. I'm obliged to you, girl."

Felicity smiled the slightest bit.

Elizabeth hugged Felicity fiercely. "Why did you not wake the rest of us?"

"No point in all of us getting set upon," she replied with a shudder she felt all the way down to the bone. "I was not about to let us become victims. Or our horses."

Nan clenched her fists at her sides. "They were rip-roaring drunk on grandfather's wines. They absolutely reeked of it!"

"Wine I can spare," Mrs. Merriman sniffed. "Daughters I cannot."

Lieutenant Richou stepped forward and smiled at Mrs. Merriman. "Madame Meree-man? _On peut regarder_?*"

"He wants to know if he can look around, Mother," Felicity said. "Probably wants to see if there are any more redcoats around."

"Oh yes, of course-I mean, oui, oui, bein sur,"* replied hastily to the lieutenant, blushing, for she had momentarily forgotten her French. "Nan, honey, do tell them that they are welcome here-that they may have quarter here as long as they wish, for we are glad to have them!"

Nan relayed this to the lieutenant and Private LaCroix, both of whom instantly beamed and bowed, for they as well as the rest of the men were weary from their travelling. And so it was, the soldiers were invited in to Mr. Tate's cottage, the little homes of the free black familiies that still lived and worked on the plantation, and even into the main house itself. So grateful were they, that by torchlight that very night they buried the two dead soldiers and marked their graves with stones. The lieutenant believed wholeheartedly that they had been deserters, and they would have been hung by whatever army captured them.

Nan and Elizabeth, who's French was very good, told Lieutenant Richou about Cornwallis being in Williamsburg, and Lafayette supposedly hovering just close by west of Williamsburg. This elated the men better than the food and drink that Mrs. Merriman had fetched for them, for 'twas Lafayette they had been trying to get to and join in with. Needless to say, precious little sleep was got that night.  
In the house, Felicity dropped into an arm chair in the downstairs parlor while Elizabeth hastened to fetch her some cool cider in a glass. Nan sat on a cushioned stool by her, holding Felicity's hand, as they were both still quite shaken by all that had happened, but Felicity seemed to have been stupified into silence.

Mrs. Merriman was too upset to sit, so she stood behind Nan. Polly had been ordered to go back to bed, but, being plagued with Merriman curiosity (which was a powerful thing), hung out on the stairs and eavesdropped on what all was said.

"Here, Lissie, drink this," Elizabeth said softly, wrapping her dear friend's fingers around the base of the glass. She sat down on the two-seater's edge on Felicity's other side. Soft candlelight flickered in the relit lanterns.

Felicity did as instructed, but her green eyes were dark and distant, fixated on some unknown point across the room. Nan and Elizabeth exchanged uneasy looks. Mrs. Merriman stroked her eldest daughter's ponytail and said carefully, "Lissie, are you-"

"I committed murder," Felicity murmured, interrupting her mother without fully realizing it.

Mrs. Merriman inhaled shakily. "Felicity, you saved your sister's life. Mayhaps you saved us all."

Nan, too, offered support. "You stopped them from taking our horses, Grandfather's beloved stalllions. Penny and Patriot...you saved them, too."

"No...you don't understand," Felicity mumbled absently. "'Tis not the fact that I killed. 'Tis that I do not feel bad about it."

One of Martha's hands flew to her heart. Nan gulped fearfully. Elizabeth knelt down before Felicity and touched her arm in concern, but Felicity continued, "They meant to make victims out of Nan and me. That made me so angry. I couldn't allow that. Couldn't let them just hurt us and steal our animals. Never been so angry before..." She shook her head in morbid awe. "So what does that make me?" Slowly, her eyes same up to her mother's frightened ones. "I am no gentlewoman, Mother. Part of me reasons that I am no different than farmers' wives and daughters who have to defend their properties while their menfolk are gone. And then part of me sees myself as some kind of monster for not having any regret." She shook her head again. "What am I now, Mother? What am I to think of myself?"

"Lissie...oh, my brave girl." Mrs. Merriman came around and pulled Felicity up onto her arms. "You did what you thought was best! How can anyone expect more from themselves than that?" She clasped the weary girl's face in her hands. "You are to think of yourself as I do-as a young lady who values the lives of her loved ones above all else. Even gentlewomen have the right to take a stand!"

Felicity swallowed hard and said evenly, "I kept thinking of Grandfather, how he came here with wonderful dreams in his head, how he worked so very hard to make this place what it is today...all his hopes for us...the thought of anyone trying to destroy that...oh, Mother, I was just so angry! Father and William at home, forced to be living with those captains..."

"I know, child, I know." She met Felicity's eyes with firm, serious understanding. she reached for Nan on her left and Elizabeth on her right. Together they four women linked arms and Mrs. Merriman touched her forehead to Felicity's. "My husband, your father, told me recently that there comes a time when gentility must be put aside. We may be women, but we are not weaklings! We will do whatever it takes to protect our loved ones. Lissie, I knew your father took you out to show you how to use those pistols."

Felicity looked at her, stunned. "But how? You never said-you didn't try to stop him or-how?"

She gave Felicity the most tolerant, grandest of motherly smiles. "I just knew. I know your father. And I am a mother. I did not approve, mind you, but I understood. I said nothing because I convinced myself that you would have no need of that kind of knowledge, but the war has finally come upon us, and the Lord only knows if it will end soon. Now I do not care if you know the use of guns."  
Nan sniffed emotionally. "Father says that war makes you a different person."

"Aye," agreed Mrs. Merriman. "Men and women alike. And no, Lissie, you are no different than any woman who has to protect her home while the menfolk are gone. You have that Merriman bravery within you strong. Use it well, love." And she kissed Felicity's forehead tenderly.

"Elizabeth," Felicity said to her friend uncertainly."The soldiers, they were British, and I-I-had to-" She couldn't finish.

But Elizabeth, sweet, understanding, sympathetic Elizabeth, smiled gently and said, "'Tis unnecessary to say, Lissie. They may have been British, but they wanted to harm you and Nan, plunder this wonderful place, and they were deserters, which means they committed an unforgiveable act against England's army- their own army! Lieutenant Richou was quite correct! They would have been hanged by whatever army caught them, or turned back over to the British army and then hung. Their fate would not have been honorable."

Felicity sighed, feeling drained and numb.

The clearing of a throat made all four ladies turn to the parlor's entrance. 'Twas the young French private/translator, LaCroix, hat in hands, bowing and smiling politely. "_Pardon moi_, Madame Meree-man, I just wanteed to zank you once again for ze food! Eet was, um, 'ow you say?-deeleecious? Oui! Such eggsellent leg o' lamb!" He was blushing uncontrollably, beaming, nodding, shifting, diverting his gaze from the beautiful, prim Nan, who was the one he'd really come to see, but now that he was in her presence once more, he was having such a terrible bout of nerves that he couldn't look at her directly.

"_Avec plasir_," replied Mrs. Merriman with a smile and a proper curtsy. "Do make yourself comfortable in one of the rooms upstairs to the left. Has your lieutenant already found a room?"

"Oui!" said the happy private. "'E ees most conteent!"

The ladies, despite all, smiled at that. Mrs. Merriman, being a mother and therefore not oblivious to the young man's shy glancing back and forth at her Nan, asked kindly, "Comment vous appelez-vous?"

"M-My name, Madame?" stuttered he, with unexpected pleasure, for only Nan and Felicity knew his name. "Private Lucien LaCroix, at your serveece! I am Lieutenant Richou's couseen. 'E can be 'arsh zometimes, but zat ees so ze men will know 'e does not favor me juz' beecause we are familee!"

Both Nan and mrs. Merriman smiled mildly, and Nan asked softly, "How long can you stay?"

_Gulp_! Lucien felt his face grow quite warm and he was certain that he was as rouge as a cardinal! The blue eyes of the fair young Nan were upon him, reducing him to nearly applesauce. "I do not know, Madamoiselle, eet deepeends on ze lieutenant! We must join Lafayette as zoon as poseebull, but wiz' Cornwalees in William-burg beetween us and Lafayette, I cannot zee 'ow!"

Mrs. Merriman nodded, considering that. "Mr. LaCroix, my son and husband are home in Williamsburg...my husband said he would send word to us when Cornwallis is gone and it was safe to return. Mayhaps your lieutenant would consider quartering here until then?"

"Merci, Madame Meree-man," LaCroix gushed, with a happy sparkle in his sweet brown eyes. "I shall pass ze word to ze Lieutenant! I bid you ladees a good night-or a good 'what-ees-left-of-ze-night' anyways. Reemember, ask for LaCroix when you 'ave need of anyzing! _Bonne nuit_!" Bowing graciously, he backed from the doorway, catching lovely Nan's considering eyes as he did, and his heart jumped. He hoped indeed that he would not have to leave this kind place and this amazing American angel before he had a chance to get to know her better!

When the private had gone, Mrs. Merriman touched Felicity's cheek. "Lissie, honey, 'twould be best if you got out of that dress and got some sleep. You and Nan sleep late. You, too, Elizabeth. The three of you go on, now."

"But what about you, Mother?" Nan asked worriedly.

"I cannot rest easy now. Perhaps later. I want to have a message ready for your father when Marcus comes again."

Felicity looked apprehensive. "Are you going to tell him what I've done?"

"No, Lissie. I believe that would be best told in person, once we are all together again. And I do not wish to include anything of importance in my message since there is always the risk that one of those captains could get ahold of it. Edward would never let that happen, anyway. He'd burn the paper first. All I want to do is send him our love." She moved over to the room's writing desk in a corner by a window. "Writing always helps ease my nerves."

Felicity not only removed her dress with haste, but once into her shift and robe, she brought the bloodied thing down to the fire in the mini-kitchen and flung it into the flames. There was no thought of even trying to wash the redcoat's blood out of it. She may not have regretted killing the soldiers, but she did want to rid herself of such a God-awful reminder of it. She and Nan stood arm-in-arm and watched it burn.

After a while of deep-thinking silence, Nan said quietly, "Felicity, I want you to teach me how to use that thing."

"What thing?" Felicity mumbled absently.

"A pistol."

What's that? Felicity raised her head, staring in surprise at her younger sister. "Nan, are you-"

"Serious?" finished Nan for her. She turned from the fire and looked Felicity in the eye. "Aye, Lissie. Even gentlewomen have a right to protect themselves. You've proven that to me this night."

Felicity touched her forehead to Nan's. "Nan, you don't have to do this..."

"No, Lissie," she said gently, firmly (as one would when one has given something much thought!). "I want to. I don't want to be a victim. So I want you to show me how to use one of those blasted things!"

"All right. But I have an even better idea."

"What's that?"

Felicity actually smiled wide. "Why don't you ask Private LaCroix to teach you?"

Nan smiled cryptically.

-Edward Merriman sighed lengthfully as he stood outside his store, taking in the shambled sight of it with more peace and thoughtfulness than his eight year old son William, who stood nervously at his father's side, believed possible. Cornwallis and the British army had been gone three days now, but they had left behind a swarm of flies and an out-break of the pox. They had taken whatever weapons they could find, whatever food they could carry, whatever horses they could get, and all the supplies they could get their hands on. Indeed, the British had done far worse damage than Benedict Arnold had!

People who were not sick were out inspecting their houses and businesses, seeing what needed repairing and replacing...if it was possible. Like Mr. Merriman was doing now. Arms crossed over his chest, head cocked consideringly, he gazed upon the building which had once been his store. The windows were completely broken out, the door was completely gone, as was the wooden stair railing along the stone steps.

He and William had been inside the store already. Hardly anything remained. There was the counter, of course, the shelves, the desk in the counting room-although that was on its side and emptied, but Edward Merriman had anticipated that kind of damage, and had therefore already removed all important items and papers from it.

He was actually surprised he still had a building in which to repair!

Oh, it hadn't been completely cleaned out. Edward knew that for a fact, and in more ways than one. The soldiers had left items mostly meant for women, like hair ribbons, corsets, powders and such, but mostly everything else had been taken, broken, or ruined in some form or another.

Edward had anticipated that.

Standing beside his father, young William felt violently angry. His father's business had been ruined! The behavior of the British soldiers made him feel hateful of anything and everything British, even though his father had told him many times over that one must'nt judge an entire people by the acts of some, that there were good and bad people everywhere. That even those in the Patriot army were abusing people and things just the same. But young Willaim did not want to believe that. Right now he hated the British and England, and wanted punishment for those who had destroyed Father's store! His young, freckled face was mad and pouty. He kicked the dirt sourly.

Edward Merriman looked at him and half-smiled, knowing all too well the things whirling around in that young heart and mind, but Mr. Merriman himself was tolerant and patient. "Something you want to say, William?"

"It's not fair!" cried he. "They ate our food, rolled about in our beds, took supplies from our cabinets-they even took Old Bess! We'll never see her again! She's not a war horse, she's old, she can't be made to move fast anymore!" Angry tears burned in his eyes. "She can't go into a battle, they'll kill her! And now we've lost the store! I hate them! I hate them all! They've ruined everything!"

Mr. Merriman inhaled deeply, put an arm around the boy's small shoulders. "I understand how you feel, son, I am angry, too. But I am not going to wallow in it, see? About Old Bess- we most likely will never see her again, 'tis true. She had been with us a good long time, long before you and Polly were born. I told Captain Digby as such when he inquired about her. Most likely all they will use her for is transport for poor Captain Wiggins, since the man cannot stay awake enough to carry himself..."

William shook his dark red head.

"But all is not lost, Will," Mr. Merrriman continued, half-smiling yet again. "Come and see."

Frowning hard but ever curious, as was the way of Merrimans, William followed his father up the steps to the store and into the shadowed building. He noted that his father seemed to look pleased about something as they went into one of the back rooms, one that was used for storing spare goods and items that had yet to be shelved and was now empty save for a couple of busted, empty crates. Light from the broken ouside windows and doorless entrance was enough for them to see by.

"But Father," William started, befuddled, "there's nothing in here!"

"Ah, Will, one cannot always trust one's eyes!" Mr. Merriman said with a grin. "Sometimes what you see is not always what is!"

Even more confused, William watched as his father got down on hands and knees, and began feeling along the dark cracks between the floor boards. "Hmm," Mr. Merriman said, as if mostly to himself, "should be just about here..."

"What should be just about there?" Will wanted to know, deeply intrigued.

"Ah-ha! Why, the hidden latch, of course! Here we are!" And as his father pulled on something down in a crack just wide enough for a man to get four fingers into, Will gaped in awe as Mr. Merriman pulled up a large section of conjoined floor boards to reveal a square-shaped black hole. A rope ladder was coiled up and pinned to the underside of the section of floor he had lain aside. Mr. Merriman began unfurling the ladder as William kneeled down beside him and leaned over the square-shaped hole so he could try to see down into it. "Whoosh!" he exclaimed. "What's down there, Father?"

Mr. Merriman grinned. "Oh, I would say about ten sacks of flour, five sacks of sugar, ten sacks of rice, some salt sacks, my spices, coffees, soaps, bowls, kettles, some of everything." He paused, watching his son's eyes grow huge. "You didn't really think I would let the British take what I didn't mind them taking, did you? What say you now?"

"That-it's-it's-"

"That's what I thought you would say," Mr. Merriman grinned. He secured the top of the ladder to two sturdy nails in the floor and let the rest of it fall into the hole. "Shall we?"

"Aye!" William went down first, easily and quickly, like a young monkey on a rope-vine. William Merriman loved to climb. He considered it good practice for when he became a sailor and had to climb stays, riggings and ratlines on his ship! When he dropped to his feet upon the hard-packed earthen floor, he stared in awe at what all the small amount of light from above allowed him to see. As his father descended, William let out a long whistle (like Felicity had taught him to do), and uttered, "It's like a miniature store down here! There's a bit of everything, just like you said!"

Mr. Merriman chuckled as he turned for a lantern and tinder box that was atop a close barrel and began to fix them up some light. "And now you know my secret-one of them, anyway! It took Haverty, Marcus and me quite a long while to make this storage. I thought we'd never get done!" With the lantern lit and casting it's glow, he hung it on a hook set in the fllorboards above them.

"But how did you know you would need all of this, Father?"

Mr. Merriman shrugged lightly. "Instinct, Will. I've been in war before and I know the hardships people and towns have to endure. When this war started I had a feeling Williamsburg would not go untouched. I have a family to protect and provide for, and a business I've worked hard to make successful. I became angry at the thoughts of my loved ones being hurt and abused, and my store raided. So I took action and made preparations."

William beamed. "And I thought the store was just running out of stuff!"

"It was," Mr. Merriman replied softly. "But I saved what I could for storage."

"Now we can clean up and reload the shelves!" William said with glee.

"You mean restock. Aye, I suppose so, but a lot of this we will share with our neighbors and people who were left nothing thanks to Cornwallis's men. We must think of those worse off than we are. We have your grandfather's plantation and hidden provisions at home! Many in this town have nothing now and need our help."

William nodded somberly. "That's what Lissie would say."

Mr. Merriman smiled. "Exactly. Now let's get back up into the store and clean up some."

As father and son swept, hammered and straightened up shelves, turning a plundered building back into a store, a lone, lavender clad figure strolled in humming through the doorless entrance and stood there just inside, head turning left to right as the small hazel eyes surveyed the scene. Reginald Forsythe smiled ever so slightly. Merriman's Store was not as bad off as some other businesses in town, but it would take some time to get it fully back like it had been.

Mr. Merriman was in the back, repairing his desk. Eight year old William Merriman was emerging with a dustpan of floor sweepings to deposit outside, when he saw the odd young lord and stopped short, mouth coming open a bit in surprise.

"Good day, little William," Forsythe said pleasantly, tapping his walking stick with the head of a greyhound absently at his side. "Is your father about?"

Startled and immediately wary, for the whole Merriman family knew Forsythe had designs on Felicity, Willaim gulped nervously, "How did you know my-?" He stopped before he could say _name_, but William figured it was pointless to ask. He actually didn't want to know how Forsythe knew his name. Father needed to get out here and make this fop, as Lissie called him, go away! "Fa-ther!" he called irritably, "there's someone out here to see you!" William sighed and stepped aside as he heard his father's boots on the wooden floor.

Mr. Merriman was saying curiously, "It could not be a customer-we put up a 'temporary closed' sign on the door frame!" Like William, Mr. Merriman came to an abrupt halt when he saw who it was waiting for him. The passive-faced, lavender-clad, feather-capped Forsythe, complete with gentleman's walking stick! From the young lord's casual demeanor, Mr. Merriman got the impression that General Cornwallis's occupation had not inconvenienced him in the slightest. And why should it have? The Templetons and the Forsythes were Loyalists. Many of Cornwallis's aides and senior officers quartered at Templeton Manor. Cornwallis himself had dined there at least two evenings. Forsythe had probably been as happy as a peach in a pie to rub elbows with him!

Mr. Merriman sighed stressfully, as that had become his initial reaction to the young lord's arrivals these days. "What do you want, Reginald?"

It was immensely annoying to Forsythe that a vast majority of these colonists were not inclined to address him by his title of Lord, as he would most definately been in England. He was very well aware that titles and ranks didn't seem to matter here much at all, outside of the military, anyway. 'Twas no surprise, really. The colonists were rebelling against their king, so naturally they were going to be in defiance of any Englishpersons of notable ranks. But yet his Auntie Lady Lucinda and his Uncle Lord Alexander Templeton were well respected here and treated so. It did not occur to him that his superior attitiude and spoiled manners teneded to annoy others and inspire dislike.

"Good day to you, Mr. Merriman!" Forsythe beamed, as if it were the most pleasant day of the year. "I trust I find your family and yourself well? I have not seen hide nor hair of Miss Felicity and her siblings about as of late, aside from young William, here, so I do hope all went well during our visit from the British!"

Had he been any other man, Edward Merriman would have launched a fist into the young man's skinny nose. But Mr. Merriman just stiffened, hands going to his hips in a most irritated manner as he replied, "Mr. Forsythe, what you so lightly refer to as a visit, was, as a matter of fact, an unfair seizure of this town that left many businesses ruined and innocent people without a scrap to eat. Fortunately, I was among the men who were able to evacuate their womenfolk before the soldiers arrived."

One of Forsythe's eyebrows shot up. His smile faded. "Felicity is not in Williamsburg? Wherever is she?"

William looked at his father nervously.

"With relatives," Mr. Merriman replied easily. "And she will remain so until I see that it is fit for her and the rest of my family to return. Now, Reginald...I will ask you one more time. What do you want?"

Forsythe had been momentarily distracted at the notion of his angel not being in town. He had to shake his head dismisively and return to the quest! "Mr. Merriman, I see that your business here is nearly ruined, and it angers me that my own countrymen would behave so inexcuseably..." He saw that Edward Merriman's expression was impatiently skeptical. "As I was passing by, I could not help but wonder how you will fare, seeing how supplies cannot come to you via the usual means of shipping."

Edward frowned. Something is definately not right here, he thought tightly. But he shrugged and replied, "That's true, Mr. Forsythe. My suppliers from the Caribees have been barred from doing business in the colonies, perhaps even pirated, much in thanks to your noble countrymen, but I am not without resources. You see, Reginald, that's one of the wonderful advantages of having friends: Friends help each other out, even if it means not gaining anything in return. I have reliable merchant friends in Richmond who will help in sending me supplies."

"But that will take time, Mr. Merriman," Forsythe pointed out relentlessly, with an edge in his tone, "for Richmond had been beseiged at least twice lately."

Edward shook his head, nonplussed. "Yet people pick up and continue living, no matter how difficult the situation. The war will not last forever. People adapt to change and go on, 'tis the way of things. My business has suffered, granted, but 'tis not the end of it. Only a slight delay. Now, Reginald, I have a great deal of work to do, so if you'll excuse me-"

"Mr. Merriman," Forsythe interrupted boldly, "what if I told you that you need not have to wait for supplies from Richmond? What if I told you your store could be completely repaired by the end of the week?"

Oh good Lord, Edward thought, his suspicions sounding their warning bell, here it comes...He glanced at William, who was gaping incredulously at Forsythe, then said, "Why, Reginald, if you were to tell me all of that, I would ask you if you happened to have a wizard in your employment!"

Forsythe's laugh was humorless. He leaned casually on his walking stick and replied, "Nay, Mr. Merriman, I have not a wizard, but I do have my Auntie's household staff and men at my command-" (And he did take tremendous pleasure in saying that) "-I would be more than willing to make arrangements for fast repair and arrival of supplies..." He trailed off, leaving Mr. Merriman to ponder this. He watched the older man's expression very closely, watching the thought process begin...

'Twas awfully tempting, Edward had to admit. What storekeeper would not find it so? But Forsythe wanted something. Someone, rather. For all Edward Merriman knew, Forsythe had told some of the soldiers to sack the store just so he could hang a grand reward over Edward's head and ask for...oh, no...

"That is quite a, er, generously kind gesture, Reginald," Mr. Merriman said slowly, cocking his head to the side a bit. He looked the young lord in the hazel eye. "Whatever would you want in return, as if I did not know?"

Mr. Merriman knew? A thin, knowing smile spread lazily across forsythe's thin face. Well, he should know, he thought slyly, he is not stupid-at least he better NOT be if he cares about Felicity's future! "Why, Felicity's hand in marriage, of course."

"Of course," repeated Edward Merriman, as William gasped in horror. "I assumed as such. You would not be here if you did not have some kind of plan that included my daughter."

"Indeed," replied Forsythe sikily, ignoring William's glare. "Have we a deal?"

William fully expected his father to react like an enraged bull, for if there was ever a time to do so, now would be it...wouldn't it? Surely he would!

No. Mr. Merriman, ever the level-headed, anticipating man of experience and foresight, folded his arms across his chest and kept his stern gaze unblinking upon the short young man. His voice was level and firm. "Mr. Forsythe, if you think I am going to decide Felicity's fate as though it were a business deal, you are, as usual, sadly mistaken. Again I will tell you no. My children, all of them, will be allowed a say in their futures. I would never, ever, consider you as a marriage prospect for Felicity, nor ever consent to her marrying one she does not love."

That stung. But Forsythe had been ready for that; he did not let his anger show. He raised his chin and said, "Mr. Merriman, it is very well known that young women do not always know what is best for them. They are prone to all the wrong influences, if you understand my meaning. I can give her a life most fitting a proper gentlewoman. I can win over her affections if only I were given the chance. All she needs are the proper opportunities. And yes, my gratitude would be very much extended to you and the rest of your family, as I've told you afore."

"And I've told you many times before," Mr. Merriman was quick to respond, "No. Just no. Always no. There's nothing you can do, say, or offer that will make me change my mind. Ever."

_Like hell_! Reginald Forsythe raged inwardly. His grip on the walking stick's handle had turned white-knuckled, his chest tight with outrage, but he merely pursed his lips, met Mr. Merriman's stare with a challenging stare of his own. Softly, he said, "I was afraid of that."

That brought Edward's suspicion level up to an all-time high. His blue eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that? If you knew what my answer would be, why would you waste both of our time? Even with your bribery?"

Forsythe's thin smile had something wickedly mysterious about it. "Because of hope, Mr. Merriman. Longing. The desire to have something precious and angellic in my life again. My need to love her is so great that I could not possibly give up so easily."

"But you have no choice, Reginald. You have to give up."

The young man cocked his head. "Amusing to hear you say such a thing, sir, after your noble oration on people who do what they must to endure."

"Surviving war and consenting to marriage are two completely different things, Reginald," Mr. Merriman told him in a tone that was nearing it's most irate yet.

"I beg to differ, good sir," Forsythe shot back with a glint in his eye. "One is just as worth fighting for as the other. Now before I take my leave of you, I must say that I am not one to give up so easily, not when the cause is worthwhile. Mayhaps Felicity will wish to me marry me herself."

Blurted William angrily, "That would never happen!"

Forsythe ignored the boy. "Nothing is set in stone here, Mr. Merriman. I cannot give up. I shall not. You may disapprove now, but in time you will see that I was the correct choice."

"No, Forsythe," Mr. Merriman said stiffly, "you are very wrong. Felicity will never choose to marry you. No matter what."

"Forgive me, sir," the young lord told him softly, half-smiling, "but 'tis you who is quite wrong. She will consent to marry me. Good day to you both." And he lifted his plummed hat to them, turned sharply on his high heel, and strolled out of the doorless entrance as if he had not a care in the world. He'd actually begun to whistle.

"Father!" William pleaded, as he followed Mr. Merriman to the door frame, "go after him! Show him you're in the right! You can't let him take Lissie away from us!"

Mr. Merriman was silent, tight-lipped, his face a miriad of expressions ranging from sheer fury to burning frustration. After an extremely long moment as full of tension as the summer air was full of humidity, Edward Merriman exhaled, albeit heavily. His angry eyes were watching Forsythe's lavender back going down Duke of Gloucester Street. Finally, he said to William, "Don't worry, Will. That is not going to happen."

"He's a menace, Father," growled William, glaring daggers at Forsythe's back. "Felicity would never choose to marry that creepy purple poppinjay! She's waiting for Ben!"

"Mayhaps," Mr. Merriman murmured, not really hearing his son's statements, but instead trying to anticipate what Forsythe's next move was going to be. His gut instincts told him the bizarre young lord was not just going to walk away from this matter. Oh no, not by any means. He inhaled sharply. "He'll have Felicity over my dead body."

William looked at his father nervously.

_She's just sixteen years old, __Leave her alone they say. Separated by fools_, _who don't know what love is yet_.  
_But I want you to know_, _if I could fly_,  
_I'd pick you up_, _I'd take you into the night, __And show you a love like you've never seen_, _ever seen_...

Excerpt from _'Into the Night'_ by Benny Mardones.


	11. Chapter 7: Wounded Warriors

September 8, 1781/ Eutaw Springs, South Carolina The heat of battle

This wasn't supposed to be happening. He wasn't supposed to go down like this. The men of Lee's Legion were better than this. They got through battles with hardly a loss and minimal injury. It wasn't his horse's fault, either, that was for certain. The dark grey gelding named Spirit had been his-what, sixth? seventh?-best mount since he joined the Legion, and the noble beast did not deserve to die like this. So brave, so reliable. Such a proud animal did not deserve an ending like this. Shot down so coldly.

Even as Captain Benjamin Davidson's horse fell, penetrated in the forelegs by grapeshot, he knew his enemies hadn't been aiming for his horse. No, horses were too valueable. They had been aiming for Spirit's rider, and had missed, horribly. Captain Davidson would have almost rather been shot himself than to hear the horse scream the way it did as it fell, with Ben himself still in the saddle, pistol in one hand, sabre in the other. It happened so fast, merely in an instant. He'd had his target in sight: the frantic face of the mounted redcoat who had his sights set on him in return. They made for each other. There was the bone-rattling boom of a cannon, dirt flying up in sheets. Men on foot screaming. Spirit screaming too, going down head first.

Ben knew he had been thrown. The ground was hard and knocked the very breath from his lungs on impact. The world went black and he didn't feel anything at all after that, which was a blessed relief since he had been shot in the left side hip just moments before his horse had been killed out from under him. The hip wound, he assumed in those fleeting moments before Spirit's demise, couldn't be too bad. It hurt like the blue blazes, but he could manage. The humidity, he had believed, just made everything worse. He'd felt like his whole body was on fire and not an inch of him was dry. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. He'd grown up knowing the hellishness of southern summers, but this...this was just too much. This was Satan's playground.

The Santee River wasn't too far of a stretch from here. How nice it would be to crawl over to it and plunge right in. It would be nice, like the cool, refreshing water of Miller's Pond back in Williamsburg, Virginia, where he went swimming with the guys on hot summer afternoons like this, when he wasn't needed at the store...Ah, yes, Mr. Merriman's store. He'd been an apprentice there, because he wanted to learn to run a store of his own someday and make his father proud. Father was very good friends with Mr. Merriman, who had a very pretty red-headed daughter named Felicity-

Felicity!

Pretty little Lissie who lived in Williamsburg with her family. Cornwallis had been in Williamsburg. Oh God. Cornwallis and his big fat army of pillaging, plundering, ransacking soldiers that didn't give a damn what they destroyed...or who. Cornwallis in Williamsburg...Felicity...what had happened to the Merrimans? His head hurt. Bad. And just how many ribs exactly had he just broken, having been thrown forcefully like that? _Felicity! I wish you could find me like you did that day in the woods when I ran away and help me_...

"Still alive, I see," said a haughty British voice, penetrating the darkness Captain Davidson was finding momentary, much-needed relief in.

Ben's dark eyelashes fluttered, his brown eyes forcing themselves open to face his grim reality once more. The blazing summer sun was blocked out by the tall redcoat standing over him with the point of a sabre pressing upon his chest. _Christ Almighty_, Ben thought, drawing in breath, _this is how it's going to end_. _Forgive me_, _Lissie_... With the very thought of fiery red hair and emerald green eyes, he suddenly felt the knife she had given to him at his birthday dinner, concealed inside his dragoon jacket. Fat lot of good that was going to do him now.

"I remember you, rebel," the officer spoke down to him, panting from the exertions of heat, humidity and battle. "You killed my brother at Georgetown. I knew we'd meet again. I knew to look for you, and it was quite easy-all I had to do was look for the rebel bastard that carried on as if he were God's gift to horseback."

Ben clenched his teeth, steeled himself against the sabre's point pressing at his chest despite the rest of the pain wracking his weakened body. With all the fighting going on around them, why didn't someone shoot this idiot? Ben didn't know him, didn't recognize him, or have him singled out from any of the hundreds of redcoats he had killed or fought in the past five years. He barely remembered Georgetown! And that was most likely because he had passed out from the heat several times since then.

But the officer seemed to recognize _him_, or _think_ he was the one who killed the brother-to-be-avenged. It didn't really matter, for the man was obviously hell-bent on killing him, and here he was, flat on his back, weaponless aside from Felicity's knife inside his jacket. This was not supposed to be happening.

"Something the matter, rebel?" the officer continued, clearly enjoying having the upper hand. "Have you nothing to say?" And as if sensing Captain Davidson's thoughts, drew the sabre point quick and diagonally across Ben's chest, ripping shirt as well as flesh. Ben grimaced, inhaling sharply, but he actually didn't feel himself being cut, for the pounding in his head and the increasing pain from the musket ball wound in his left hip was far worse. His flinching left hand at the hip wound also felt the boot of the redcoat towering over him. It gave him an idea.

"You ran my brother through with your sword," snarled the British officer lowly. "I am now going to see to it that you are thoroughly _fucked _by mine!" And he raised his sabre, clasping the hilt with both hands, intending to run the seemingly weakened Legion Captain through with it, when Ben clasped the man's ankle with two fast hands and yanked with all the strength had had left, forcing the officer's legs out from under him.

The officer went down. Ben whipped Felicity's knife out from inside his jacket pocket and lunged at the downed man, who was utterly startled, and rammed the eight-inch blade into the soldier's chest. With both hands he yanked it out, then stabbed again. And again. And again. The officer gaped at him. "Give my regards to your brother," Ben wheezed, "whoever the hell he was." As the officer convulsed and died, the last of Captain Davidson's strength faded abruptly, and he passed out cold beside his slain enemy.

At first Ben thought, again, that he had died. He had heard the sweet, sad voice of Felicity Merriman saying, "Are you going to come to us in a box like Michael Moffitt?" Then the darkness he was lingering in began to get lighter. He heard other voices, not coming from inside his head as Felicity's had. Men's voices. Concerned voices.

"...and heat exhaustion isn't helping. The hip wound is what I'm worried about the most. It's pretty bad, pretty deep, too. He's lost a lot of blood from it, so bleeding him is out of the question." The Legion's surgeon, no doubt.

"What about that slash across his chest?" That voice was Lt. Colonel Harry Lee!

"Not too bad. It stitched together quite easily. But that musket ball to the hip-I had to work hard to get the damn thing out of there, and it needs more attention than I can give it. We got a man over there with a hole in his side the size of a melon I need to get back to."

"Good God."

"Aye," the surgeon replied tightly. "This one will survive a little longer if he can just keep his fluids down and-oh, I think he's coming to."

He was trying to, anyway. He felt like even his eyelids were made of lead. He blinked, tried to focus on the two men kneeling over him, one of whom he knew right away as his commanding officer, Harry Lee, unqustionably. And Lord God! the heat was still pressing down on him! Even though he had been moved into the shade somewhere. His entire left side was blazing in pain and his vision was blurred. He heard no more sounds of battle. The dull throb in his head had given way to a hollow-feeling ache. He felt heavy and light at the same time. His mouth was bone dry, but he managed to mumble the only word that made any sense to him at all. A name...

"Lissie..."

"Beg pardon?" The surgeon leaned further down over him, but Captain Davidson didn't have the strength to speak again just then. His left side was in such pain that he couldn't think clearly to form a sentence. He uttered a low, helpless groan and flinched uncontrollably.

"'Lissie'," Colonel Lee repeated to himself thoughtfully. "I've heard him say that before...Ah, yes! Felicity! His girl in Williamsburg! My little elfish spy."

The surgeon stared at him quizzically.

Lee placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. He glanced down at the young captain's bloody hip and the dingy, torn fabric that had come from the Lord only knew where and was painfully reminded of how low on supplies he and General Greene were. Lee himself had seen more of his men die this day than in months of action. He was half heartsick, half infuriated.

This was not supposed to have happened.

The loss of men had been great-for both sides. Both sides were claiming the victory, even though British Colonel Alexander Stuart had loss twice as many men. But now tallying could wait. Greene needed reinforcements. Lee needed his voice to be heard.

Captain Davidson flinched again. His eyes, pain-glazed, opened just enough to see his commanding officer. Colonel Lee was just a watery shape to Ben, but a recognizeable one. "Sir...?"

"What is it, Captain?" Lee asked encouragingly, leaning low so he could hear the young man's weakened voice.

"My side...it hurts. I got...I got shot."

Lee swallowed with uncertainty. "Aye, you did. And you are going to live, Davidson. That is an order from your superior officer."

He was in so much pain that his chin trembled. "I'm no use...no use to you like this, sir. I've failed you."

"Like hell, Davidson." Lee's fear for the young man's life hardened into determination. "You have given me almost five years straight complete, constant service, loyalty and dedication. And the one time you were given furlough you even fell ill! You're one of my best, Davidson. You've given me and this legion all that you have and then some, and this is what you get in return. Believe me-I know how that feels." He paused, thinking.

"My duty, sir.." Ben attempted to say.

"Has been served," Lee finished for him grimly. "Time for you to go home, Ben. Time for you to go back and honor your promise to Edward Merriman...and snatch up that pretty little red-head of ours before some other lucky fellow does."

"But-"

"Ben," the colonel sighed, the strain of the war and all his own personal frustrations concerning it was obvious in his tone, "I've been considering resignation myself for quite a while now. Nothing is going the way it should. I've become...disillusioned. You've sacrificed a great deal yourself. Go home. 'Tis not for you to endure this any longer."

Ben coughed weakly. "War...isn't over."

Lee gripped his young Captain's shoulders firmly. "It doesn't have to be. And even when this war is over, it will never be truly over, d'you understand? We'll always be fighting for something, Ben. Independence, recognition, respect-fighting for it even among our own people! You're still alive and you've served your country. For five years, damn near. You heard me, Ben. Go home." The Colonel reached behind him, on the ground, and brought something into Ben's blurred view that looked like a knife. Ben's own knife. The blade had been cleaned off. Lee folded it back into the ivory handle. "Tell Felicity it served her well." Carefully, he opened the young man's green jacket and inserted it into the hidden pocket.

He then turned to the surgeon. "He's going on the wagon bound for Virginia. I'm headed that way myself on Greene's orders."

Ben heaved a groan in pain.

"Have a man with him all the way back to Williamsburg."

"Yes sir."

Ben did not see it, but the surgeon and the Colonel exchanged an uneasy look about his condidtion. "And," added Lee, "see to it he has identification on him, in care of Mr. Edward Merriman of Williamsburg."

"Of course, sir."

Again Lee clasped his shoulder with a determined grip. "You'll make it home, Captain. A man of my Legion does not give up so easily."

"N-No, sir," Ben said shakily.

"See you soon, Davidson." Lee rose, breathed deep. So many of his men dead. Good men, with him from the very beginning, just like Ben Davidson, who wasn't faring all that well. God willing, the young man would make it back to Williamsburg alive and put a life together for himself. No, the war wasn't over, but men had had all that they could take and then some. Lee himself included.

He was in and out of consiousness. He felt himself being carried, on a sheet it would seem, and every now and then a familiar voice would say something like, "You'll make it, Davidson," or "Take care, Captain," and even one "Take care, sir." He was jostled somewhat (knowing it wasn't intentional) raised, lowered again, and this time he felt himself being laid on a hard surface. Wagon bed, he assumed. A covered wagon, since he could no longer feel the direct intensity of the sun. But damn the humidity! And he was not alone in the wagon, either. There were others on their backs, other wounded men.

There was a sharp jolt, and the wagon was moving. He was leaving Eutaw Springs, leaving Colonel Harry Lee. Leaving the life he'd been living for nearly five years behind. At the moment he didn't care. His entire body hurt, his head hurt, and nothing mattered. If he lived, it would sink in later and he could ponder it to every extent. He knew he was going back to Williamsburg, and that thought brough some measure of comfort, but a new worry was growing in his mind to rival the heat, humidity and pain.

Cornwallis was in Yorktown now. Had his father left before occupation began? And was Felicity and her family all right?

His life was flickereing before his mind's eyes. His mother had died when he was but seven years old, of an infectuous fever. His father had been deeply devastated and refused to remarry for quite some time. 'Twas only when Ben had left to be Mr. Merriman's apprentice did his father remarry, and the woman had been a widow with two married daughters.

Ben himself was not an only child. He did have a younger brother, Lawrence, who had lived only three months after being born, and there was older brother Nate-Nathaniel- who was only the Lord knew where these days, having shunned responsibility and the family business to go North and gamble. And chase skirts. Nate would be twenty nine this year, if he was still alive.

And Father? Victor Davidson and his wife were probably not in Yorktown. Mr. Davidson had homes all over Virginia. Most likely he-they-were in Richmond now. Or even Alexandria. Hell, maybe he was even in North Carolina. Father had been interested in purchasing a town house in that territory...

The throbbing in his head halted any more serious thought. The wretched pain in his side stemmed from the hip wound, he knew, and oh how it hurt! Off and on someone would put the opening of a canteen to his dry lips and would struggle to gulp the heavily watered down rum without getting strangled. He wished it was just straight rum-he'd rather pass out from being drunk than pass out from the pain.

He thought of green eyes and red hair. _Felicity_, _I'm coming home_..._I hope_.

-SEPTEMBER 14th, 1781

Felicity Merriman frowned heavily. Her ususally sparkling emerald eyes were hurt and angry, glaring hard at the wood boards of her father's store as she swept. Outside Merriman's Store, there was the constant chatter of people walking up and down Duke of Gloucester Street. Mingled with the voices of passing townsfolk were French accents-coming from French soldiers. Williamsburg was oddly, eerily cheerful, what with heroic, dashing Lafayette and his forces of French and American men to occupy the town. People were hopeful again. People were smiling and spirited again.

Felicity Merriman wasn't.

There was a ton of worries and stresses wearing on her soul, gripping at her heart, and not even the pressence of the friendly, likeable, helpful French could lift her anguish. She was still angry at the British for damn near destroying her father's business, as well as the rest of Williamsburg. The recovery process was so painfully slow! She was still angry that the British had taken poor old Bess-even if it was just to tote along a captain who couldn't stay awake long enough to piss properly.

And a lot of folks had died of smallpox, thanks to the infected British soldiers. Felicity knew some of those who had died: Mr. Haverty's brother-in-law, poor Mrs. Fitchett, Mr. Ramsey the printer whom Walter Wheaton used to be an apprentice for, several younger folks, a few children...And then there was that outrageous, underhanded scoundrel Forsythe! Trying to bribe Father with financial assistance in exchange for-ugh!-her hand in marriage! Father had told them all about it, for he had been more angry about that than he had been about the British soldiers. Trying to offer her own father money, basically, in exchange for her! Like she was a filly to be sold to the highest bidder! Despicable!

Any sociable, polite regard she had left for the fop was now gone. The next time she saw him, someone would have to restrain her from bloodying his skinny nose! And on top of all that, she was worried sick about Ben. Word about the mauling at Eutaw Springs had reached Williamsburg just a day ago. Both Patriots and Loyalists were claiming the victory, but both sides suffered tremendous losses. Lee's Legion had been in the battle as well. The list of those killed had not yet been tallied, much less posted anywhere, but Felicity was seized with heartsickening fear that if Ben was not already dead, he was now. It had been months sice his last letter. His signal whistle still hung loyaly around her neck, night and day, even when she bathed. Her constant reminder of a boy, now a man, who had told her he loved her and promised to return.

She knew Ben wanted to keep his promises, but would God let him? Elizabeth said once that Ben was too hot-headed to let himself be killed. Felicity had prayed and prayed that it was so.  
She was so immersed in her gloom and doom thoughts that she hadn't even felt herself stop sweeping. Lazy afternoon sunlight lit the new glaze-barred windows on either side of the doorframe, which held two new, unpainted wooden doors, open wide to let in the slight breeze. 'Twas a nice day, after all.

Anything could happen on a day like this.

One of her hands drifted to the signal whistle hanging against the pale blue bodice of her day dress as her green eyes gazed at the floor, not really seeing the boards, but a scene from five years ago, when her friendship with Ben had elvolved into something more...something joyous and overwhelming that whispered softly of the sweet possibilities for their future. She saw Ben's soft brown eyes, framed in dark thick lashes, holding a shine meant only for her. She saw his lips, soft and smiling that sly, playful smile there on his youthfully handsome face because she had blushed as red as turnips when he had so boldly kissed her on the mouth. She had grinned and giggled, and felt like her insides had just turned to applebutter-and it must have shown all over her eleven year old face, for Ben Davidson laughed softly and told her that red never looked so pretty on any girl as it did her.

As she recalled, she'd replied that red was indeed her favorite color, because it was so alive and so bold, so full of feeling! "And that is my pretty Lissie," Ben had told her, his grin wide and beautiful.

To think it had been nearly five years since she had seen his smile and looked into those soulful brown eyes! To think she could possibly never see either of them again. It ate away at her soul, threatened to consume her, and up til now she had been doing so good to keep her mind occupied!

A mind could only take so much.

A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder and she jumped, having been startled out of her daydreaming. It was Elizabeth, grinning at her with mild amusement. "Thinking about Ben?"

"Aye," Felicity sighed miserably. "Is it so obvious?"

"To those who know you." Elizabeth smiled good-naturedly. "He'll be back, Lissie."

Felicity shook her head slowly, absently. "Five years, Elizabeth. He's been gone five years. He hasn't even come home for a visit."

"True," agreed Elizabeth thoughtfully. "But that just goes to show you what a dedicated soldier he is!"

Felicity shrugged disconsolately.

"Anyways, I'm done sweeping the back room." Elizabeth looked around the room pleasantly. "Looks like a working store again, doesn't it?"

"Sort-of," Felicity mumbled. "A mostly empty store."

"Now Lissie, you must perk up! There are things for sale in here, and your father is having some business, which is better than none at all! You said so yourself just yesterday."

Felicity looked at her best friend's encouraging face and smiled. Elizabeth had been so supportive during the refixing of the Merriman's store, offering to come dust and carry and sweep. She had been a source of comfort during their time at the plantation, helping keep Polly occupied, making delicious goodies for the French soldiers. She truly loved the place and the workers she had befriended, but she would have enjoyed it a lot more if Arthur and her mother had been there.

Arthur and Mrs. Cole had fared pretty well during Cornwallis's occupation: the Cole house had indeed quartered a Colonel and all of his aides, whom Arthur reported as having been civil, even if all they did was eat, sleep and break wind. Indeed, the homes of the Loyalists were treated with a tad bit more respect than those of the Patriots, but everyone was cleaned out of food and necesary items, or damn near.

The reunion of Elizabeth and Arthur had been a sweet one. Lots of hugging and kissing. As soon as Marcus had brought word from Mr. Merriman that it was finally safe enough to return, Elizabeth was the first to cry out in relief. All twenty of the French soldiers had escorted the ladies back to Williamsburg, with Private LaCroix riding Patriot (at Felicity's insistence) along Nan's side of the carriage. Felicity rode Penny and chatted with the foot soldiers in English and in French. All of the Frenchmen were as joyous as peas are in their pods when reunited with their superior officers, and nearly excited to the point of impromptu jigs to be in the presence of the Marquis de Lafayette, whom the ladies had more than just the absolute pleasure of meeting.

The Marquis had arrived on the Merrimans' doorstep with his aide, Lieutenant Richou, and Private LaCroix to thank the ladies for their hospitality and generosity, having confessed that the twenty soldiers had been given up for dead, but never for desertion, for that was not the way of a true Frenchman! Mrs. Merriman, amidst her joy and relief at having her family reunited, invited the Marquis and all who came along with him to dinner. 'Twas obvious the Marquis was not feeling well, for he had been abed since his arrival, but he was not going to object to a gracious dinner of peas, ham brought back from King's Creek, along with apple cobbler, green beans, roasted potatoes and hot buttered veggies. He did not resist in the slightest to taking a pot of Martha Merriman's chicken soup back to his headquarters. Even as under stress as he was, he could not resist the lovely Merriman ladies.

The Marquis was not handsome (his nose was long, as was his face and his reddish hairline was already receeding for someone so young), but his eyes had a sparkle despite his not feeling so good, and, like Ben had reported in his letters, his personality was irresistable. A person could not help but like him straight away. He delighted in meeting new people, giving each and every soul attention and conversation, be it in French or his broken English. He even attempted hard to get everyone's name correct.

"Fee-lee-cee-tee?" he attempted, beaming at the beautiful red head across the table from him.

"Aye," nodded Felicity encouragingly.

"Fuh-lee-cee-tee?" "Oui," said Felicity. "It is Felicity."

"Fah-lee-cee-tee?" He looked uncertain.

"Nay, dear sir, simply Felicity."

The Marquis sat back in his chair and smiled at them all satisfactorily. "I am thinking," said he, happily, despite his nagging migraine, "zere ees nozing seemple about zis young ladee!"

And for the first time in quite a while there was laughter all around the Merriman dining table. Felicity had wondered what Ben would have thought if he knew that one of the most popular, well-loved men in the country was sitting here at their table, laughing and eating with them. Then her excitement had been dampened by sadness.

The sound of drums brought Felicity back from her memory, back to the moment, and Elizabeth's curious face. She and Felicity exchanged a startled look. Suddenly there was excited yelling in the street and people were running like mad. These days, most everyone's reactions were apprehensive and nervous, but for some reason unknown to the two girls inside Merriman's Store, people did not sound upset at all.

Mr. Merriman had emerged from his counting room, hammer in hand, for he had been repairing more shelves, and stared at the girls. "Now what is happening?"

No sooner did he ask the question did the answer come scrambling up the steps and skidding into the doorway on one foot in the forms of Arthur and William, who were clutching at each other to keep from falling into the recently replaced barrel of locks. Felicity and Elizabeth gaped and giggled, stepping back to avoid being accidentally hit by a flailing arm or two. Both the eight and the eighteen year old gasped madly for breath.

"Will? Arthur?" Mr. Merriman half-grinned. "What the devil is going on-"

"Washingtonishere!" William blurted out in one breath, the first he could take since he and Arthur barreled in. Thrills of excitement ran through the girls as they squealed in delight. Mr. Merriman threw his head back and let out a long breath of relief. Arthur flung his arm around Will's neck for support and clapped his other hand on a bent knee, for he was more breathless than his eight year old friend.

Laughing joyously, Elizabeth rushed forward to catch Arthur's other arm and drape it about her shoulders. "Oh, this is wonderful news! I just know the war will not last much longer now!" "Aye, Beth," wheezed Arthur, "that is the general feeling among the populace!"

Mr. Merriman's smile was the happiest yet. "I have that feeling also, Elizabeth!"

"General Rochambeau is with General Washington!" gulped William, who'd removed his tricorn to cool off the top of his head. "There are so many men, Father! Can we go watch? 'Tis a sight!"

"Certainly, son," replied Mr. Merriman delightedly. "I want us all to remember this day. There is a matter of grave importance here no one should ever forget."

"Excellent!" cheered William. "Oh! I must fetch Polly! She'd not want to miss this, either!" And before anyone could say another word, he'd slipped out from under Arthur's arm and out the door, leaving poor Arthur almost crashing to the floor if not for Felicity rushing in to catch his abandoned side.

"That lad," wheezed Arthur as he attempted to smile, "has had me following him up trees and down ditches for days now, seeking treasures. Just between the four of us, I do not believe pirates would go so far inland and to such lengths to squirrel away their bounties!"

Mr. Merriman laughed warmly. "Since he hasn't been able to go down to College Landing or any of the docks, he really hasn't had much opportunity to pursue any of his sea-faring dreams aside from looking for buried treasures."

With Elizabeth's and Felicity's help, Arthur was seated on a three-legged stool Mr. Merriman had snatched up for him. Said Arthur between gasps of breath, "Indeed, sir!" Gasp. "He has even gone so far as to-" Gasp. "-ensure that I understand I am to be his cabin boy-" Gasp. "-aboard the vessel he shall one day captain."

"How thoughtful of him!" Exclaimed Felicity, shaking her head in good humor. "What shall be the name of this vessel?"

"'The Merriman'," Arthur replied with great amusement. "'Tis to be a ship-of-the-line of course, with a very merry crew that knows all the good sea songs. They will explore the seven seas for treasure, drink much grog, and win many battles in the service of General Washington's navy." He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Except for me. I shall be busy doing whatever Captain William tells me to do. Pardon me, Mr. Merriman, if I am not surprised if our young William marches right up to General Washington and asks for a naval commission right away!"

They all laughed good and hard at that.

Elizabeth hauled Arthur to his feet. "You have rested long enough, Arthur. Do let's go see the General arriving. 'Tis such an important occasion and I very much want to see him!"

"Why, Beth!" said Arthur in pleasant surprise as he wobbled. "Does this mean we are Patriots now?"

She blushed a little. "I suppose so, sort of. If you think about it, England is so very far away, really too far for King George to try to govern here. Part of me is still and always will be loyal to the country of my birth, but I live here now, an entire sea-world away from England. And if you think about it some more, which I have, there are people here from many different other lands, and 'tis pointless for their rulers to try to govern here as well. The citizens of the colonies should make a new rulership of their own!"

Mr. Merriman smiled proudly at Elizabeth."That is some of the best logic I have ever heard, Miss Cole."

Now she turned deep crimson. "Thank you, Mr. Merriman." She cleared her throat sentimentally. "Now let us make haste, Arthur Pratt, before the crowd gets too thick. Lissie, Mr. Merriman, will you come?"

"Oh yes!" chirped Felicity excitedly, her green eyes ablaze with energy.

"Yes, of course we will," said Mr. Merriman joyfully, reaching behind the back of his waist to untie his apron strings. "But you two go on ahead. Lissie and I need to close up the store first. We'll find you."

"Splendid!" Elizabeth pulled on Arthur's arm as she made for the doorway. "Come along, Arthur! Do not drag!"

"But Beth, my sweet," protested the blond Brit in vain, "I am already winded! I am a gentleman! Gentlemen do not runnnn...!" And he was hauled out of the store, his long legs staggering.

Felicity laughed as she too began untying her waist apron strings. Mr. Merriman grinned and commented, "I cannot say that he would make a good cabin boy, but he will make Elizabeth a fine, obedient husband!" He took his and Felicity's aprons, folded them up and swiftly stuck them under the counter. He handed his ring of keys to Felicity. "Lock the back door for me?"

"Certainly, Father!"

As soon as she was gone, a young man entered the store. He was about twenty years of age, clad in a powdered wig, black tricorn, and blue coat with red facings and gold buttons. A military aide, no doubt, Mr. Merriman assumed. The lad looked serious, partly due to the late summer heat and his being required to wear such an uncomfortable army uniform, and partly due to the job he had been required to do today.

Delivering messages bearing unfortunate news.

"Mr. Edward Merriman?"

"Yes?" Edward stepped forward.

"I've an important message for you." He handed Mr. Merriman the folded, rectangular parchmment sealed with dark red wax, just as Felicity was emerging from the back room, staring curiously. He tipped his hat to her and bid them good day, then he spun on his heel, even as Mr. Merriman opened the letter and began reading its contents.

Felicity dropped the keys on the counter top, went to the doorway and looked out in the direction the young man had gone in. "He didn't look too happy, did he, Father?" she commented casually. The sounds of muskets being fired into the air in celebration of Washington's arrival seemed to be coming from everywhere. She could even see young boys sitting on top of roofs, waving and cheering. "Do you suppose he brought a message from Washington asking for supplies for his army?"

"No, Lissie," Mr. Merriman replied in a serious, quiet tone.

"Well what else could it be? What is so urgent that..." She had turned around and saw her father's troubled, somber face, and her smile faded instantly. His eyes met hers and somehow, some way she knew. "Is that letter...about Ben?"

By way of response, he slowly handed the parchment to her. With trembling hands she gripped it, read aloud, "It is with great urgency that you be informed that a Captain Benjamin Davidson, formerly of Lt. Colonel Henry Lee's Legion of Partisan Dragoons, is presently being hospitaled at the former Governor's Palace in severe condition with wounds obtained in battle. It is imperative that he be seen to before..." She looked at her father with horrified eyes, wide and panicking. "Oh, Father, Ben is here! We've got to get to him, we've got to get to the Palace NOW!"

"Aye," he breathed worriedly. "Let's hurry." But Felicity was already fleeing the store with her heart in her throat, tears in her eyes, and Ben's name on her lips. Edward hurried to get the heavy iron lock on the store's doors locked with his own shaking hands. Then he too was off in a mind-numbed hurry.

After five years, Ben Davidson had come home.

_Some dreams are in the night time_ _and some seem like yesterday_

_But leaves turn brown and fade_, _Ships sail away_

_You long to say a thousand words but seasons change_

_It feels like it's forever, No reason for emptiness_

_But time just runs away, No more day by day_

_You dream again_, _it seems in vain when seasons change_

_(I want you_) _I want to feel you by my side_

_(I need you_) _Don't you know I need you_, _baby_?

_Seasons change_, _feelings change_

_It's been so long since I found you_, _yet it seems like yesterday_

_Seasons change_, _people change_

_I'll sacrifice tomorrow just to have you here today_

-Excerpt from _'Seasons Change'_ by Expose

Author's Note: as a matter of fact the 'f' word WAS used back in the 18th century! Surprised the "F" out of me! If you don't believe me, check out the book 'Writer's Guide To Life In The 18th Century'. Dialogue was NOT as uptightly formal as you might think. I have firmly determined that in reading LOTS of historical romances. You think publishers would not take _those _authors seriously if they had not done their research? Believe me, I have given myself research burnout!


	12. Chapter 8: Ben Returns

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, PT2 Ch8

She wasn't aware of the people she flew past, people who were gathered to catch glimpses of Generals Washington and Rochambeau on their horses. The people were barely aware of her, unless she stirred up extra dust or accidentally elbowed someone in her blind flight to get to the Governor's Palace. All thoughts of celebration were beyond her. She wasn't aware of the expression of desperation that she wore, the pounding of her shoes on dirt and cobblestone alike, wasn't aware of heat, humidity, or the sound of her own pulse banging in her ears. Ben's signal whistle swung wildly from side to side around her neck.  
She was breathing hard, her lungs burning, when she arrived at the open wrought-iron gates of the Palace. It vaguely registered in her mind that the last time she had passed through these gates that it had been Ben who had escorted her here, and she had been wearing a beautiful blue silk ball gown. He had squeezed her hand and smiled so happily...Now he was here once more, inside this magnificent building where she'd come to learn all those fancy dances and the minuet, seriously injured, in need of help. Insane how life could twist and turn that way.  
She boldly charged up the crushed shell path, up the steps and into the open double doors...and abruptly halted, panting fearfully. Where to look? Whom to ask for help? The first thing she saw were men, some in uniforms, some not. Men wearing the fringed hunting attire, men wearing aprons that bore smears of blood on them. Felicity shuddered and hugged herself. And there were women, too, carrying trays of food for the wounded, clean, folded linens and surgeon's instruments, most likely for the surgeons they were assisting. They were wives, daughter, fiances, no doubt. Some of them looked sad, others nervous. The entire scene was a far, far cry from the festive one she'd experienced here years ago. She didn't even recognize the interior: the place had been pilaged and plundered to no end, time and time again, but knowing it was now used as a hospital for Patriot soldiers was once again a sharp slap in the face from the reality of war.  
But Ben was here!  
To her right was a parlor in which three or four men in Contental army uniforms were in, talking with glad faces. Apparently they did not mind being overheard-they were speaking of Washington and the mass of soldiers coming. Should she ask them for help finding Ben? Bewildered, worried, she stumbled past the parlor and up to the first person she came to. A man who looked like, in Felicity's opinion, to be a surgeon, seeing as how he was clad in one of the blood-smeared aprons.  
"Excuse me, sir," she panted quickly, stepping in front of him in a hasty manner so that he had to pay attention to her. She curtsied rapidly. "Can you tell me where I can find Ben-I mean, Captain Benjamin Davidson?" It was still so utterly strange to refer to Ben as Captain. In her mind, he was still simply Ben.  
"Who?" the man asked, looking puzzled.  
Felicity's heart went further up in her throat. "Captain Davidson, of Lee's Legion! He's here, my father and I recieved a message that he was! Can you tell me where he is?" Her green eyes were pleading.  
The older man stared at her a moment then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I haven't heard the name before-doesn't mean he's not here, though. I've seen about fifty men today already. Some wounded arrived just this morning, some that I haven't seen yet. We're busy here, Miss, and there just aint enough of us with physick-knowledge to go around. Try the ball room."  
Felicity drew in her breath and plunged forward again. She knew where the ballroom was, even if the mansion looked shabby and neglected. She was gripping Ben's signal whistle with white-knuckled hands, her eyes darting about, looking for recognizeable faces, finding none. She came to the entrance of the ballroom, that very room where she and Elizabeth had come to for their dancing lessons once upon a time, and clapped a hand over her mouth and nose, for an utterly strange and unpleasant smell hit her at once. She didn't know what in tarnation it was, nor did she want to know.  
The room was filled with injured men. A room where ladies and gentlemen once curtsied, bowed and danced in courtly steps now sheltered the severly wounded, and from the looks of it, the dying even. Mostly lying flat on their backs upon blankets, there were men from all different regiments of the Continental Army. Men in the fringed hunting uniforms. Men who wore no uniforms at all but tattered civilian clothing. There were dingy bandaged heads, legs in splints, arms in slings, men missing either an arm or a leg, men unconscious, men barely awake and staring out into nothingness.  
Felicity stumbled in, her heart banging so fast, so fearfully, that it was hard to keep the despair from her voice as she called out, "Ben?" She gulped. How would she recognize him? Was he even in this room? She stood in the middle of the aisle that ran the length of the room, entrance to end, with rows of men laid out on either side of her. There were some women, too-wives? daughters? lovers?-bent over their men with damp cloths, tending to them as best they could. A couple of women just sat on the floor beside their men and looked forlorn. Felicity's heart went out to them instantly, despite being gripped by her own plight.  
"Ben?" she called again, looking from right to left. No man lifted a head or hand. No voice called out in reply. None of the wounded looked familiar. She clenched her teeth in frustration. And why was no surgeon or medic in here tending to these poor men? This was abominable!  
She uttered a cry of alarm when a hand laid itself upon her shoulder, flinched and whirled around, saw the curious face of a bespectacled man with greying hair pulled back in a queue. He wore no blood-smeared frock, but the manner in which his shirt sleeves were rolled up (and the fact he was holding a bloodied scalpel) suggested he was busy with patients. "Can I help ye, Miss?" he asked her tiredly. "'Tis best not to shout in here, the men are-"  
To hell with gentlewomanly manners! "Captain Ben Davidson," Felicity interrupted forcefully, her breathing quickening once more. "Where is he? Was he brought in just this morning? Is he in this room? You must tell me!"  
"Miss," the man replied wearily, "if you'll just calm down a moment, I can tell you that the fellow you're lookin' for is over there. Next to the last man on your right. Now, he aint doin' s'good, so-"  
But Felicity was striding away from the man even as he was speaking, her back having turned on him at once. She did not even see her father come into the room looking breathless and worried after having tried to catch up to his daughter, but had to settle for quick strides instead. Mr. Merriman went directly to the man Felicity had just dashed away from.  
Felicity herself shook all over as she came to a gasping halt at the foot of the blanket on which lay the young man she'd been desperately trying to find. The sight of the soldier laying upon it startled her so much that for a second she did not believe it was Ben at young Captain's hair was long and brown, unkempt and upon his shoulders. The face, begrimed, bore a strong, masculine jaw with black whiskers beginning to form a beard and wisps of a moustache. His eyes were closed, but even still, Felicity knew their shape, the dark brown eyebrows and thick lashes. This was Ben!  
She was kneeling at his side in an instant, fighting back her roiling emotions and the rock-hard lump of anguish in her windpipe. Her eyes, tear-filled but holding back, flicked over him, taking in his open green dragoon jacket and the poorly done wrapping on a -dear Lord!-diagonal cut across his chest. His shirt had even been cut and the blood dried and blackened. But that was not even the worst. There was the wound in his left hip, also poorly, hastily wrapped in bandaging that had soiled and begun to smell. Felicity was no surgeon by far, but she knew enough about wounds from what her mother, grandfather, and simple observations had taught her to know that this was not good. Infection had set in. Infection caused fevers and eventually...  
NO!  
"Ben!" she whispered, leaning over him, clasping his hot face. Fever, indeed! "Ben, it's me, Felicity! I'm here, Ben! You're home, you're in Williamsburg. Ben, please!"  
His dry lips parted. Eyelids moved. Then whatever sleep he had nearly emerged from overtook him again and he was still, not even making a sound. Felicity pushed hair away from his forehead and held his face again. "Wake up, Ben, look at me. It's Felicity. I'm here!" No response. She looked around her. Where was any water? He needed water and cool compresses! Why was no one attending him?  
The shock of seeing her beloved friend again after five years in this condidtion combined with her burning outrage at the lack of care for him had her teeth clenching, her fists balling up, and white light flashing before her eyes. She was up on her feet, striding back to the bespectacled man whom her father was talking in low tones to, and blurted, "Why is there no one hepling him? He has fought long and hard for our freedom, and this is what he gets in return? I demand he be seen to immediately!"  
"Felicity!" Mr. Merriman whispered harshly.  
"Miss!" the man hissed sharply.  
"No!" she cried, refusing to allow her voice to be silenced. Her blazing eyes jumped to her father's perturbed face. "He is burning, Father! His wounds need cleaning, he needs to be out of that filthy uniform, and he cannot wake up!" She whirled to go back to Ben, but yet whirled back around again. "And that horrible hole in his hip smells! What, if anything, do you intend to do about it? How can anyone breathe in here? This room is stifling! 'Tis cooler outside than in here!"  
"Felicity, get ahold of yourself!" Mr. Merriman demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. In a lower tone, he said firmly, "I am trying to get Ben released, do you hear? I know of his condition. There is a severe lack of decent surgeons here even though more are expected to arrive with Washington's Army. Those who are here are doing the best they can under the circumstances. They cannot be everywhere at once!"  
This, if anything, only enraged her further. In her present state of mind she could only be biased, she could only feel for Ben. "Then let us take him away from here, Father! Let's take him home with us, where he belongs! I will tend to him!"  
The man in spectacles stepped forward, holding up two hands in protest. "Now wait just a moment, Miss, we can't just-"  
"Oh no?" Felicity challenged, stepping around her father, "can't allow him to leave? I will take him and drag him away from here myself, and the only thing you can do to stop me is to shoot me, and don't you think enough Patriot blood has been shed already?"  
The man looked aggravated, looked helplessly past Felicity at Mr. Merriman pleadingly. "She always like this?"  
"Mister," Edward sighed, "I would not know where to begin." He put an arm around Felicity's shaking shoulders. "She gets it from me, I'm afraid."  
_Some family! _the man was thinking. But he looked at the young lady with his clearly worn-out patience and said (with the last of his tolerance), "Miss, all I was going to say was that we can't let him be moved too much because of his injuries. We aint holdin' no one against their will, y'see? And he's been discharged from service already-I got his papers with his sack o' stuff in my office."  
Mr. Merriman nodded seriously. "Can he not be moved onto a wagon just long enough for us to get him to my home?"  
The man scratched his chin thoughtfully and considered this. "Whereabouts do you live?"  
"Duke of Gloucester Street!" Felicity answered right away. "'Tis just a breeze from here!"  
The man decided it was worth the risk just to get this brazen, agitated, loud-mouthed girl out of the room. "Nay, that aint far at all. Lemme see if we got a wagon available." _And if we aint got one_, _by Satan's rump_, _I'll STEAL one_! _Young fella survived the ride here from Eutaw_, _he'll survive the ride down the road a ways_.  
As soon as the man turned away from them, Felicity flew back to Ben's side, sinking to her knees to touch his face. With haste she removed her handkerchief from the concealed pocket in her day dress and began dabbing the sweat from under his eyes and above his brow. Mr. Merriman knelt down upon Ben's other side and gingerly gripped the young man's closest arm as he whispered, "Ben? It's Edward Merriman, son. Just you hold on. Felicity and I are taking you home."  
Her father's kind words made her eyes well up again, so much that she had to concentrate hard on not letting them spill with tears. When she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion and restraint. "He'll live, Father. I know he will. He would not be gone from us for five years just die right before our eyes."  
Mr. Merriman did not reply. He was inspecting the hip wound as carefully as possible, his face reflecting the severity of it. Finally, he breathed, "Aye, Lissie. But we need to get him home."  
In a few minutes the man in the spectacles was back, bringing with him a tall, muscular black man. He beckoned for Mr. Merriman to come over. "This is Charlie. He can help you get your young Captain there into his wagon and take you to your house and inside. We can't spare the wagon for long, but there you have it."  
Edward nodded curtly. "'Tis enough, sir. I thank you." He nodded to Charlie. "How do we move him?"  
Charlie adjusted his tricorn on his sleek bald head. "Got to use th' blanket, suh. Aint got no more platforms available. You get his head-end, an' I'll get his foot-end, an' we'll carry him out nice and slow."  
"Aye." Mr. Merriman came to Ben's head and took the corners of the old blanket into his hands firmly as Charlie took hold of the corners at the bottom. "Step away, Lissie, we have to lift him now."  
Quietly, Felicity backed away, clutching her handkerchief and Ben's signal whistle in her hands. She watched them slowly lift Ben on the blanket, trying to jostle him as little as possible. Charlie moved backwards carefully with well-placed steps as her father moved forward with determined ones. She followed them nervously, ready to yell out if it looked like they were going to bump into anything or anyone. The bespectacled man watched them leave the room, shaking his head.  
Just outside the ballroom, a motherly-looking woman was standing with a brown sack and a black-plummed helmet. She waited until Felicity emerged. "Are you with the Captain there?"  
Felicity wasn't sure what the women meant by that, but she was far too stunned to even ask. "Ye-yes," she stammered, trying to watch her father and the tall black man with Ben.  
"Here's his things, then. One dragoon helmet..." She put it into Felicity's arms. "The rest is in the bag. Pistol, short sword, and what-all. Good luck to ye." She dropped the bag into Felicity's awkwardly trembling arms and was off, just like that. But Felicity didn't linger, either. She staggered after her father, still trying to make sure the path was clear of obstacles.  
They went out the rear of the Palace, where there were few steps down to challenge them. A flat bed wagon with raised rail sides was backed up near to them, and the big black man called Charlie was skillful in helping get Ben up onto it without incident. "I'll ride back here with Ben," Felicity told her father right away, and in such a way that suggested the issue was not up for debate. Not that anyone was in the mood to debate. She was quick to scramble onto the wagon bed and sit herself beside her friend. Mr. Merriman sat up on the seat with Charlie and told him which direction to take. The horses started forward with only a brief jolt, but Felicity was sitting so close beside Ben that his body was not moved by it. She removed her mob cap and held it before Ben's face to block the relentless summer sun.  
She could not help but stare at him. He was definately not Teenage Ben-the-apprentice anymore. This Ben was a man, a young one, aye, but a soldier. One who knew killing and neraly being killed. He'd seen death in many forms. He was bound to be different, Felicity worried. Was this Ben capable of laughing and smiling like before? _He'll be like a stranger_, she thought numbly. _Will he like_ me? _Will he like any of_ us? Without thinking, she touched his hair at a temple affectionately with her free hand.  
Wounded, dirty, bloodied as he was, he was still...utterly handsome! _Oh Felicity_! she scolded herself immediately. _How can you think of such a thing at a time like this_?  
_I'm only human_, _that is how_.  
_You are as giddy as a little girl on her birthday_! _He'll see you haven't changed much at all and think nothing of you_!  
_No_, _Ben wouldn't think that_! _He knows me better than that_!  
_No_, _Ben_ doesn't _know you any more_. _Nor do you know him_.  
They were pulling up to the front of the Merriman house. The Merrimans no longer had a gate, for the British had taken it piece by piece for firewood, and Mr. Merriman had not yet had the opportunity to replace it, but that at least had been the extent of the damge done to their property. Felicity looked over near her replanted garden and saw Nan, all prettily dressed in lilac, standing and chatting with four young French soldiers. Flirting with _four_ French soldiers, Felicity corrected herself. _She is going to be_ SO _surprised_! Among the flirtatious French was the likeable Lucien LaCroix, who'd recently been promoted to Corporal. He stood the closest to Nan, watching the other fellows with suspicion, but he was the first to notice the wagon come to a stop in front of the house.  
Mrs. Merriman, who had apparently been near the windows to keep an eye on Nan and her amorous admirers, no doubt, stepped out and stared in befuddlement at her husband and the tall black man coming down off the wagon seat...and Felicity quickly scooting off the wagon's rear in an awkward, unladylike fashion. But none of them seemed to be smiling. They looked serious and in a hurry. What did they have in the wagon? The side rail facing her was too high for her to tell.  
"Edward?" she called curiously.  
"Open the door, Martha!" he called back. "And hold it for us!"  
By now Nan and her Frenchmen had wandered over near the shell path that began where the Merrimans' gate door used to be. Nan saw that her sister's beautiful face was pale and worried, that Felicity held in her arms a brown sack and something that was black-plummed. And then Nan saw the tall black man lift two corners of a blanket-end, as her father had ahold of the other end. Someone was on this blanket! A man! They were taking him off the wagon bed!  
"Monsieur Merri-man!" LaCroix cried, stepping forward eagerly. "_Vous desirez_?" Then he slapped a hand to his forehead, having forgoten that not everyone spoke his native language. "Can I 'elp you, sir?"  
"Oui. oui!" pitched in his companions.  
"Merci, Lucien," Mr. Merriman replied tightly, for he wanted all his attention focused on keeping Ben as still as possible, but he smiled a little. "I appreciate it, but we are nearly there." Lucien LaCroix had become a regular visitor to the Merriman home, to see Nan, of course, his manners and friendliness impeccable, but Edward had a taunting feeling that any day now the eager lad was going to ask about courting Nan, or even marriage. He pushed the thought out of his mind for now. There was an even bigger matter at the present.  
Felicity was following closely with Ben's things clutched tightly in her arms. "Take him to my room," she said quickly. "Lissie!" gasped Nan, stopping her sister with her hand to Felicity's nearest arm. "Is that...is it...?"  
Felicity inhaled deeply. "Aye, Nan, it is. 'Tis Ben. He's home. He's seriously injured and I am going to look after him. Do you mind sleeping with Polly?" "N-No, of course not, but..." She didn't know what to say. She certainly wasn't expecting this! And Felicity looked so anguished and distraught! All Nan could do was stare in morbid fascination as her sister wordlessly followed their father and the tall black man.  
Mrs. Merriman gasped shrilly when she saw who it was being toted on the blanket into the house. "Oh my Lord, Ben! Edward, is he...?" "No, Martha, but he will be if we don't take care of him."  
Charlie slowly backed up the stairs, as Mr. Merriman went forward, followed by Felicity, who said to her mother as she went, "He's been shot in the hip, cut across his chest, and he has a horrible fever, Mother!"  
Without another word, Mrs. Merriman flew to gather the necessary things for fevers.  
Up in Felicity's bedchamber, Ben was put off the blanket as gently as possible. Felicity opened the two windows in her room to let in what breeze there was, for the room was rather warm, and Mr. Merriman and Charlie began removing Ben's dragoon jacket, shirt and boots.  
"Felicity, you will need to step outside for a while," Mr. Merriman said in a subdued tone.  
"Yes, Father." She went obediently, clutching the signal whistle in her hands. The door was closed most of the way. She didn't need to wonder what to do now. 'Twas like she moved without thinking and with unquestionable purpose. She went promptly to her mother and Rose to help get together the things they would need to tend to him with: cold compresses, clean water, clean clothing. Lots of water. 'Twas as if all of this knowledge and understanding came to her on waves of constant reassurance, and of course it should: how many times in the course of her life thus far had she watched her mother and Rose tend wounds and fevers, watched her dear grandfather before he died grind his medicinal plants and show her what herb was best used for what situation?  
She could no longer plead ignorance after having learned all of that!  
Charlie soon left with the blanket rolled up under his arm, having tipped his hat to her and Mrs. Merriman. Felicity had been forced to wait out in the hall, just outside her own door, for only Mrs. Merriman and Rose had been let in to help father clean Ben up. She was antsy to go in and help. If Ben woke up and asked for her...would he even think to ask for her? She was thankful that William and Polly were still gone to watch the arrival of General Washington, for they would most likely be underfoot, bombarding everyone with questions, begging to see this Ben they'd heard so much about. Felicity sat on a bench ouside her bedchamber door and bit her lip nervously. William could barely remember Ben. He knew Ben was at one time their father's apprentice in the store, but, like Polly, would only know him now as 'Captain Ben Davidson, who was home from the war after having been in battles with Light Horse Harry Lee.' Felicity herself had only her sweet, cherished memories of the Ben that Used To Be. She strained to hear what all was being said and by whom, if there was any indication that Ben was awake, but there were only the hushed voices of her parents and their gentle footsteps.  
At long last her mother stepped out with a porcelean basin of dirty water balanced against her hip. "There you are! Are Polly and William back yet?"  
"No." Felicity's face was tense with concern. she rose to her feet right away. "How is he, Mother?"  
Mrs. Merriman sighed thoughtfully. "Not as bad as we first thought, but he is still feverish. He needs all the rest he can get. That musket ball shot is deep and your father says it will take lots of time to heal-he's seen it's like before. That cut across his chest isn't bad; an army surgeon has sewn it up well. His ribs are not broken, but bruised. 'Tis only the fever that keeps him unconscious now. I've cleaned his wounds as best I can, so now all we can do is keep him cool and wait for him to wake. We'll need to keep a close eye on that wound."  
Felicity nodded vigorously in agreement.  
There was an awkward pause, then Mrs. Merriman said softly, "Glad to have him home, Lissie?"  
"Aye," Felicity breathed, unable to hide it.  
"I assumed as such." Mrs. Merriman smiled tenderly. "I know how that feels."  
Felicity turned hotly red and quickly spluttered, "Oh, but Mother, we aren't-that is, Ben and I-we're not, that is to say, there's no-um, 'tis different from you and Father!"  
"Is it?" She passed Felicity with her mysterious smile. At the top of the stairs she paused, turned back to her eldest daughter with a twinkle in her eye. "The knife you gave him was in the inside pocket of his dragoon jacket. It looked used. Perhaps it saved his life. You can go in, now. Your father can tell you how you can help."  
Felicity gulped. Her face felt very warm, and it had nothing to do with it being summer. She breathed deep, told herself to calm down, to stop feeling so excited! She had not seen Ben Davidson in five years. They would be different with each other. they were not children anymore. Affirming these things to herself, she pushed the door to her room open wide.  
Ben appeared to be sleeping heavily. There was a cool compress upon his forehead and his long brown hair had been pulled back and tied. He wore a clean white shirt, opened so that the diagonal cut across his chest could be tended easily to. He was covered up to his waist with Felicity and Nan's bed linens. Mr. Merriman had just finished giving Ben a shave with his own personal shaving kit.  
"'Twas kind of you to give him your room, Lissie," Mr. Merriman said softly as he stood at her nightstand, putting his shaving tools back into their monogrammed, oaken box. "Would you like to sit with him awhile, keep his face cooled?"  
"Yes, Father," she replied easily, but kept the eagerness in her voice at bay. As thrilled as she was to have him home again, she was going to try not to react so childishly. She had always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, to show her emotions and express her thoughts even when it was not deemed appropriate. She had even made a vow to herself that she would always be that wild bird that no one could or would tame. As much as she found tremendous satisfaction in that, she felt the sudden need to rein herself in...for now.  
She sat down in a chair at the bedside, with the bowl of cold water in her lap and a rag for dabbing his face. Her expression was seriously set, Mr. Merriman saw. Her movements were caring, soothing, concentrated. Edward put a hand on his daughter's shoulder as he passed her chair. "He'll get better, Lissie."  
"I hope so, Father. Will you be getting him a doctor?"  
"I'll try, honey." Mr. Merriman's face was determined. "Any good surgeon is serving with the army or simply unavailable. I don't know if Dr. Galt has come back from the Army yet-I have not seen him in quite some time, but I will find someone, my girl, I promise you that."  
And if Father said so, one could very well wager on it! Felicity nodded acceptingly. Something else nagged at her nerves. "Will he be bled?"  
"Not if I can help it," Mr. Merriman replied right away, apparently having already decided firmly against that. "That would be utter nonsense. He's lost enough blood already. I'll see you later, Lissie. Remember to fetch your mother if he wakes. If you can help it, try not to let William and Polly bother him."  
She nodded again, and her father went out, closing the door most of the way shut, leaving his eldest daughter and apprentice alone for the first time in five years. 'Twas awkward, but yet such a blessed relief to have Ben home again. He lay in the bed she and her sister slept in, oblivious to his surroundings and to the people who were caring for him. Probably hadn't had a decent sleep in the Lord knew only how long. Or a decent meal for that matter. Silence coated the room, but outside and not too far away were the sounds of cheering crowds, celebratory musket-fire and pulsing drums.  
But there was nowhere else she'd rather be than here.  
She sat at Ben's side, nearer to his head, in the very same chair he had sat in to read to her out of Gulliver's Travels whilst she had been recovering from her fever. Wordlessly, she dabbed his face with the cold rag and studied him with fascinated, wondering eyes. Five years might have given him broad, muscular shoulders, a stronger jaw and chin, and (God help her, how could she not notice?) a hardened, sinewy physique, but in his quiet, cleaned, sleeping face there was more of the Ben she remembered.  
Felicity Merriman smiled to herself.  
His breathing was steady and he seemed at peace despite the fever and his wounds. She wished he would just wake up and see her, recognize her, understand where he was and that it was she who sat by him...which she ended up doing for the rest of the day and into the evening. William and Polly returned for a late supper, babbling nonstop about General Washington and how Lafayette came running up to Washington and hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. Felicity took her supper upstairs and ate quietly by Ben while Mrs. Merriman told the two youngsters about their friend being home and being too ill for visitors.  
Night came and Felicity insisted on staying near Ben in case he woke. This was accomplished by her willingness to-that is, demanding to-sleep on the floor. Nan moodily shook her head (her disapproval needed no words), William and Polly expressed envy, Mrs. Merriman was touched, and Mr. Merriman simply agreed that would be best. So she folded a comfy blanket into a long rectangle to lay down on with a sheet to cover herself with, for the late-September nights were still too warm for much else. Alone in her room with Ben, she kept a candle burning in case she needed to jump up and go to him. And just before she lowered herself to the floor for the night, she leaned over him to look at him one more time. "Welcome home, Ben," she murmured softly, her voice sounding small and affectionate. Emotion welled up inside her, irresistable, in a wave that moved her to gently kiss his warm forehead.  
In sleep, his handsome face turned towards her, and for one over-joyed second she thought he was waking up...but his breathing remained deepened and his body still. Felicity sighed submissively and went to her bed on the floor, lightly fingering his whistle.  
Both the wounded young cavalry captain and the spitfire young lady slept like the blessed dead, without interruption, without knowing that Mrs. Merriman had looked in on them once during the course of the night and smiled upon them lovingly.  
Morning came and Duke of Gloucester Street was already bustling with French and American soldiers going to and fro. Civillians ranging from those who were attempting to run their businesses despite the ravages of the British occupation to the merely curious were already out and about as well. Felicity Merriman, too, was up at the crack of dawn still clad in yesterday's dress sans mobcap, resmoothing her ponytail and tying back the thick red locks.  
She leaned forward to study herself closely in the oval looking glass on her dresser-top. In her own opinion, she didn't look any different than she did at age eleven, (but every hot-blooded fellow in Williamsburg could testify on a stack of Good Books that she did!) and she frowned. Then she figured Ben would recognize her straight away when he woke, and was pondering whether this was a good or bad thing, when behind her, Ben made a sound.  
Something between a groan and a moan. Felicity gasped, turned around, and saw Ben's face turning away from her, his expression troubled. Brow furrowed, he turned his face back. His lips parted. Felicity was quick to come to his side, to touch his forehead and arm. "Ben, it's me, Felicity! How do you feel?"  
He inhaled deeply, his eyelids fluttered, but they did not open. Then he spoke, said something so low with his mouth and throat so dry that Felicity could not make out his words. She leaned down further over him, staring worriedly.  
"Ben, what is it?"  
And then he mumbled hoarsely, "Clarissa...I need...Clarissa..."  
Felicity Merriman drew back sharply, as if she'd been stung by a hornet. Her expression was instantly blazing with confusion and disappointment, both of which had sprung out of her like fire come to life.  
Who in hell was _Clarissa_? For a long moment she just stood there, staring down at her friend with a hard face, watching him grow calm and still yet again. Not knowing what to say, much less _do_, about his sleep-heavy mumbling, Felicity saw that he was not about to wake up after all, and thus she was left to wonder. And her wonderings were not pleasant. Had he met a girl while he was gone? He'd certainly had the time to! She was naive about a lot of things, but she wasn't completely stupid. She'd heard about soldiers stationed in different cities and homes when they were not fighting, and they met all kinds of adoring ladies and women eager to attach themselves. The thought enraged her. _But how could Ben do such a thing_, _knowing that I was here_, _worried half to death that he had been captured or killed_? _He said he loved me before he left_, _and I told him that I loved him_! The disciplinary voice in her head told her in reply, _You were children then_. _You are not obliged to each other_. _Time has passed_. _Time changes everything_, _everyone_.  
_But_ I've _not changed_!  
_How do you know_?  
Felicity balled her fists at her sides. _Because I'm standing here infuriated and jealous of some faceless female that goes by the name of 'Clarissa'_, _whom Ben obviously needs_!  
_Maybe he's just dreaming_. _'Tis the fever_, _perhaps_.  
_His fever is passing_! _That was no dream_-_name_! _He is in need and his need is for this 'Clarissa' person_! Not _me_!  
_He is delirious_. _He knows not where he is or whom is standing beside him_.  
_What difference in hell does that make_? Felicity rolled her head back and sighed with aggravation. She felt stupid for being so quick to make assumptions, stupid for being vain, and still a bit disappointed and irate at Ben for mentioning he needed this Clarissa-person in her presence.  
Men!  
Felicity had shunned many in the past two years. Shy, kind, older, younger, rich, poor. She would have none of them. Her promise to Ben was not her only reason for refusing a beau. She had confided to Elizabeth that the thought of marriage terrified her. It meant whatever little independence she possessed would be ground up into fine powder and scattered to the winds. Plenty of men enjoyed the thrill of the chase in gaining himself a wife, but once married, the man expected his catch to change for his sake. The fun was over. 'Twas time for the woman to be wife and mother and live the rest of her life in her little house existing for the sole pleasures of others. Not complaining. Not asking questions.  
Not living.  
When she was younger, the thoughts of marriage seemed intimidating at first, then gradualy interesting, and now downright horrifying. She'd vowed no man would change her, that her life would be her own, always and forever. Freedom was for everyone, so why not for her, too? And Ben Davidson, she believed, was the only male in creation she wasn't related to that truly understood her and accepted her the way she was. Ben had said he didn't want her to change. 'Twas five years later now. _Ben_ seemed to have changed.  
Maybe _he_ would not accept her anymore.


	13. Chapter 9: Sweet Reunion

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, PT2, CH9

Dutifully, Felicity helped her mother take care of Ben most of the day. As predicted, Polly and William tried to snatch peeks of the cavalry captain being nursed in Nan and Felicity's bed whenever the door to the room was opened. It got to where Mrs. Merriman was about to blow her top when Elizabeth and Arthur arrived, having heard from Mr. Merriman that Ben was home, albeit wounded seriously, and thus provided the youngest Merrimans a distraction when they arrived that afternoon. Arthur was very gracious in engaging William in a duel of wooden swords as Polly cheered and clapped for her hero brother. This enabled Elizabeth, Felicity, and Mrs. Merriman a chance to sit down to lemon tea.

Felicity honestly had nothing to report to Elizabeth about Ben's being home, other than the extent of his injuries, over which the blond girl's eyes grew wide with shock. Felicity took her upstairs to see him, and all Elizabeth could do was stare in awe. Again Felicity tried to gently wake him, saying that Elizabeth Cole had come to see him, but he merely groaned and snored.

"He'll be so happy to see you," Elizabeth said as Felicity quietly closed the door to her room after they stepped out.

"I am not too sure of that," Felicity told her warily. "This morning, he actually spoke, and he asked for someone; a girl named-" Here her lips curled fouly. "- 'Clarissa.'"

"' Clarissa?' " Elizabeth frowned as hard as Felicity seemed to be. "A girl-are you certain?"

Felicity glared at the wooden floor boards, trying to imagine what a 'Clarissa' looked like. "Know you any _boys _named 'Clarissa'?"

Elizabeth slapped Felicity's ruffled sleeve passively. "Oh, you know what I mean! Maybe 'Clarissa' is a maid-or a camp follower whom the men called on for food and laundering. Mayhaps she is a surgeon's assistant!"

Felicity hadn't considered any of that, and at once felt foolish...but only for a moment. Irritability was irresistable. She wanted answers. "And mayhaps the men called upon her for something else...if you get my meaning."

She did. "Felicity!" Then in a lower tone, she asked, "Would Ben truly do such a thing? I mean, I have heard that soldiers would gladly partake in the bed-sport if given half a chance...but Ben? _Our _Ben?"

"Why not?" Felicity shrugged stoically and leaned back against the wall. "He is a soldier. Men have needs. Especially men who are soldiers. One of the ladies I used to sew with at Mrs. Trent's house lost her husband to the likes of a whore."

Elizabeth shuddered. "But Ben? He just wouldn't!"

"Not the Ben we knew." Felicity pursed her pink lips. "The Ben lying in that bed in there might."

They were quiet a moment, the two young ladies deep in their own thoughts. Downstairs, Arthur Pratt was going on to Mrs. Merriman about how William's fencing ability was coming along so well that had he a real sword the fiesty lad would have turned him into a living salt dispenser by now. Mrs. Merriman had a good laugh at that.

Elizabeth looked at her best friend with understanding and loyalty. "Lissie, I can understand where you are coming from in this, but let us wait until Ben is better so that he can tell us who this 'Clarissa' is himself."  
Felicity sighed reluctantly, knowing better, knowing Elizabeth was right. "I know, I know. Grandfather would say I am trying to swim in a shallow creek."

"Well, just you get out of that creek, Lissie Merriman! Until Ben wakes, you must assume nothing!" She smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me for pressing an entirely different matter, but I was hoping you and Nan could come over and help me some more with my wedding dress this week..."

"OH! Oh, yes!" Felicity suddenly straightened, snapping back to life. "With Ben home again I've completely forgotten everything we were doing previous!"

Elizabeth giggled. "'Tis understandable!'

She took Elizabeth's arm in the crook of her own as they headed to the stairs. "The war will be over soon, and you shall have the finest wedding Williamsburg has ever seen! Nan and I will make your gown the envy of every woman in town! Nan says the pink silk really brings out the blue of your eyes, and I rather agree. You must have pink flowers for your hair as well! Oh, Beth, I am so happy for you and Arthur my heart could just burst!"

"Please do not rupture before my wedding," entreated Elizabeth with a broad, thrilled smile, and the girls laughed irresistably. The worry was suspended for the moment. Despite the war, the girls could agree there was something wonderful to look forward to. But Felicity couldn't shake the feeling that her own future was a cringing mystery...and a dark one at that.

-He had never in his life thus far felt so weak. His war-wounded body wanted to sleep, and even though he was unconscious a good deal, it was not the comforting sleep he needed in both mind and spirit to even begin healing. He had rattled around in the back of that wagon leaving Eutaw Springs for what seemed like days on end, so that even when he was finally stock-still he continued to feel like his bones were still in motion. He'd have vague dreams about being, of all places, in Governor Dunmore's old Palace in a big room full of other wounded soldiers and quietly sobbing women. He had thought of pretty little Felicity Merriman in her beautiful blue silk ballgown, twirling about like the enchanting pixie-princess she surely was, sans wings. He thought about volunteering to escort her to that Palace just so he could see her happy and smiling again after her mother had been so ill, and indeed he had been rewarded by her affectionate smile and the glowing light of happiness in her emerald eyes.

He missed those eyes terribly.

Then he dreamed that he was back in the Merriman house, with familiar voices around him, comforting hands upon his face and forehead. The dream seemed so real that he had been afraid to fully wake and open his eyes, lest reality blast him and find him lying prone on the battlefield once more. He'd smelled lavender, bringing memories of Felicity Merriman thundering back to him like a bell ringing in his head. She had smelled of lavender, such an intoxicating, deliriously tempting scent! And then thirst had hit him hard. Lord, he was so thirsty he thought he was surely going to die! Yet his eyes were so heavy, his senses reeling like mad, that he couldn't fully come to.

Now consciousness was unavoidable. Death had passed him by once more.

The scent of lavender filled his nostrills in such a way that he knew he couldn't possibly be dreaming anymore. He felt himself to be laying on? in? a soft bed, on pillows, by God! His hip hurt, but nothing like the demonic agony of before. He heard gentle laughter, voices not too distant...familiar. Just under the lavender he could smell ham, and-dear, sweet, loving Lord!-fruit pie! His dark-lashed eyelids fluttered rapidly, and at last, Ben Davidson woke that very late afternoon.

His body felt tremendously heavy, his head light, his musket-ball wound painful. He saw ceiling beams. Blinking fast to clear his watery vision, his brown eyes took in as much of his immediate surroundings as he could register, considering his reeling senses. Red and white checkered bedsheets, bed curtains and blanket. Feminine dresser and oval vanity mirror. Soft gauzy curtains wafting slowly in the slight breeze coming through familiar, open windows. Familiar coral necklace laying on the dresser top...the heady scent of lavender...

"FELICITY! _FELICITY_!"

Downstairs in the mini-kitchen Nan and Felicity had just made a fresh cherry-apple pie while discussing their future plans for Elizabeth's gown, when the frantic yelling startled them both, right down to their buckled shoes. Nan nearly dropped the pie while transferring it to the prep table. She and Felicity exchanged a bug-eyed look, and Felicity exclaimed "Ben!" She tore from the room while trying to quickly wipe her hands on her apron, and nearly collided with Polly, who'd been playing peach-stone checkers with William in the parlor.

"Lissie, it's a banshee!" Polly cried fretfully, jumping up and down with her hands over her ears.

"No it isn't, Rabbit!" William yelled, emerging from the parlor after his sister. "It's a Ben-shee!" But Felicity paid them no heed. She was tapping up the stairs in a flurry of steps, hollering back, "Get Mother and Rose out in the kitchen!"

"FELICITY! _FELICITY_!"

Her heart banging wildly, she actually forgot to breathe as she scrambled to the door of her bedchamber and burst in, gasping. There, sitting up in her own bed, brown eyes wide with shock, dark brown hair having come lose from it's tie and falling forward upon his shoulders, was Ben Davidson Very much awake. Very much alert. Brown eyes locked with emerald eyes. Mouths dropped open.

"_Felicity!_?"

"Aye, Ben, it is!" And such a powerful wave of relief and emotion crashed over her that she flew laughing from the door to the side of the bed as Ben's arms were going wide, reaching for her, his eyes filling even as he stared in wild wonder at the glorious, grown red-headed beauty that swiftly sat down in front of him to grab him into a manic embrace. His breathing quickened to joyous proportions as he crushed to himsel this...this _stunning _young woman who was most obviously, undeniably Felicity.

Physical contact. Oh, how incredibly good she felt! They clung to each other desperately, quietly crying, laughing, reeling in the notion that the other was truly there. Ben felt her silky soft ponytail, the warmth of her lithe body, her breath on his hair, and squeezed her hard. The smell of her, the _feel _of her, the fact that she held him so tightly, all spoke silent words of joy and excitement, relief and...love? "Felicity...it _is _you," Ben murmered softly, struggling to keep control of his dizzying emotions. "I thought I was dreaming!"

"Nay, 'tis no dream, Ben Davidson!" she laughed, unable to hide the thrill in her voice. "Or should I say _Captain _Davidson?"

He laughed, coughed weakly. "Oh, just let me _look _at you, Felicity Merriman!" They pulled back, clasping each others' arms. Their eyes simply drank in the other as they exchanged shy, gushing smiles. Unable to resist, Ben brought his trembling fingers to her face to touch her jaw, her soft cramy cheek. "Pretty little Lissie...not so little any more! My God, how you've grown!" he marvelled, emotion clogging his throat. He couldn't swallow. His eyes flicked all over her,marvelling, noting everything: the curves of her hips, the slender waist, the allure of perfect breasts upon which rested...his signal whistle! "Y-You still wear it," he whispered in awe, "...my signal whistle!'

She clasped his face, his warm, hard jaw and laughed through her tears of joy, "Would you like it back now?"

"No! N-No, not at all!" he was quick to reply, gulping. "I like it very much right where it is!" And indeed he did.

Suddenly William and Polly were in the room, grinning, giggling and full of unrestrainable energy. They were immediately followed by Nan, Rose, and Mrs. Merriman, who went right to Ben and embraced him as a mother would. He did his best to hug her back, considering he did not want to let go of Felicity's wonderful arms.

"Oh, Ben, 'tis so good to have you home at last!" Mrs. Merriman gushed happily. "We were so worried about you there for awhile!" She clapped a hand to his forehead and held her breath, feeling. "Ah, better! You're still warm, but whatever is left of your fever will soon pass with plenty of bedrest and fluids. You must be absolutely starving!" He was. Starving for attention from Felicity.

"And thirsty!" continued Mrs. Merriman. "Rose, we must get him cool cider and a platter full of ham-"

"Rose?" Ben peered past Felicity's gorgeous red head and beamed at the cheerful black woman he had always considered a good friend. Grey hairs were interspersed around her hairline, but her dark brown eyes were just as bright and youthful as ever. "Rose! It's good to see you again!"

"'Tis a blessing to have you home, Captain Ben," Rose told him delightfully.

"How is Marcus? Is he here?"

"Marcus is at the store with Father!" This came from William, who strode right up to his mother's side with Polly in tow. "Did you _reeeally _meet General Washington? He's here in town, you know."

Wide-eyed once more, Ben's startled gaze went from the eight year old with shoulder-length red hair to Mrs. Merriman. "This is little William?"

"I'm not so little!" Will exclaimed in protest. "I can ride just as good and climb just as fast as Felicity!" And that was something to brag about!

Ben laughed despite his painful hip, and Felicity blushed deep crimson. She smiled sentimentally as Ben extended his hand to her little brother. "And I'll wager you're just as brave! In case you don't remember me, I'm Ben Davidson. I was your father's apprentice in the store."

William nodded vigorously and shook Ben's hand with his smaller one (Good grip he's got, there, Ben noted), and said happily, "I know. Now you're a Captain under Light Horse Harry! Did you _reeally _-"

"William!" Mrs. Merriman reprimanded with a smile, pulling her excited son back by the shoulders. "Do not aggravate Ben with questions just now! He is wounded and still needs peace and quiet. Just you be a young gentleman now."

"Yes, Mother," Will sighed, stepping back with his mouth in a disappointed crinkle.

"And who is this?" Ben asked, smiling warmly at Polly, who looked like a recreation of Felicity.

"Polly!" the girl blurted in reply, with just as much gusto as Felicity had displayed at that age, and Ben knew without a doubt that this little faerie would be a ball of fire just like her older sister as well. The six year old miss curtsied, remembering her manners. "I'm the youngest!" said she, bravely. "I can run faster than William, but I can't ride horses yet. Everybody says I'm still too young."

Ben grinned at her and nodded. "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Miss Polly. You were just a baby when I left, but I'm very glad to be here to see you learn to ride."

Polly was quite pleased with that, and stepped back so that she would not have to be told to. Felicity, who'd wordlessly noticed how Ben had been quick to retake hold of her hands, kept her giddiness at bay by telling him, "We call her Miss Rabbit, because she is as fast as one, and just as adorable."

Ben laughed in amazement at this, his eyes meeting Felicity's. Then he noticed the teenaged Nan, standing nearer to the door with her hands clasped in front of her, smiling politely. "And you are Nan," he said softly, absolutely astounded by how much the Merriman children had changed. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," Nan replied curteously, not missing for an instant the way _Captain _Ben Davidson's eyes wanted to remain fixed on Felicity. Like moth to flame. The warning bell in Nan's sensible mind was clanging as she watched him grip Felicity's hands, look at whomever was speaking to him, then go right back to gazing at Lissie like she was dinner and desert all rolled into one. Nan wasn't angered by this, by no means, but she had an unsettling feeling that Felicity was going to be in trouble and that Ben Davidson's intensity wasn't going to help at all.

-_When you look at me with those brown eyes What do you want to do?_  
_Do you have to have me the way I want you?_  
_I want you When you look at me with those brown eyes What do you want to say?_  
_And are you just another liar?_  
_Will you take me all the way?_  
_All the way _

"_Brown Eyes" _by Fleetwood Mac

That late afternoon that Ben woke, Mrs. Merriman sent William and Polly to fetch Mr. Merriman, who gladly closed the store despite all the business he was getting from the French and arriving Continentals, so that he could go home and reunite with Ben. Like Mrs. Merriman, he hugged the young soldier as he would a son, complete with the tears and laughter. The two of them talked long into the evening, with Felicity joining them, bringing them their suppers and eating with them as she and her father sat at Ben's side in chairs. They spoke of the war, obviously, of Cornwallis' occupation and Williamsburg's decline.

"To tell you the truth, Ben," Mr. Merriman said thoughtfully, as he watched his former apprentice putting away his fourth plate of ham, biscuits and beans, "I've been pondering closing the store for good in the near future and taking up plantation life."

"_What_?" Felicity choked, sitting bolt upright so fast that crumbs of her pie crust flew out ot her mouth as she coughed. Ben flinched, for he wanted to get up and go to her aid, but his hip blazed burning, deep pain, and he could not, but Mr. Merriman was closer, anyhow, and gave her a couple of good whacks on the back. "Father, no!"

"Lissie," Mr. Merriman sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Williamsburg will never be the same. Ever since the capitol moved to Richmond things have been changing for the worst. Cornwallis' being here solidified that fact. Things are lively and bustling right now, because the French and American Armies are here, but when the war is over and they leave...businesss here will get bad, you see. People will leave and they will take their businesses with them."

As Felicity sighed reluctantly, Ben struggled to sit up straighter, against the bed's headboard. "And what of my promise to you, sir? I mean to fulfill my contract to you as we agreed upon. I have been given honorable discharge from the Legion though the war is still going. I'm not fit for much now, but as soon as I am better I will-"

"Ben, Ben," Mr. Merriman soothed, gesturing for patience with a hand, "becoming a soldier has made a remarkable man out of you. Lee has been lucky to have had you for so long..."

"Lee is among the greatest of men, sir," Ben stated proudly, his jaw set so triumphantly that Felicity's heart fluttered like mad.

Mr. Merriman nodded in complete agreement. "But Ben, I'm so thankful to have you home after these five years, after all that has happened I no longer care about our agreement." Upon seeing the astonished faces of his daughter and former apprentice, he was quick to continue. "Of course you can help me in the store as long as it stays open, but as far as I'm concerned, you're due a trip to Richmond for your merchant's certificate any time you are ready!"

Felicity gasped in delight and Ben was so overcome by emotion that _he _nearly choked. "I-I don't know what to say, sir, I...I thank you! I thank you, so much!"

"You're very welcome, Ben." There was an upwelling of emotion in Mr. Merriman's voice. "This war, it has touched us all in ways we never imagined. I said it before you left and I'll say it again now: you're a part of us, Ben. Always. We've prayed for your safe return everyday and night...and no one more so than Felicity. Welcome home, son."

"Th-Thank you, sir! You have no idea how much that means to me." He looked at Felicity and was so entranced by her he couldn't blink. "There were so many times I thought I was never going to see any of you again. Especially once we got into the South. Especially at Eutaw Springs." His voice had a sudden shake in it. "I thought I was dead for certain. I thought I was only dreaming that I was lying in the Governor's Palace. Now I see that I am really home, that I-" He swallowed hard, his eyes all over Felicity's beautiful faerie face "-that I'm home and I'm alive."

Felicity reached over and gave his closest hand a squeeze. "Aye, Ben! There is so much to tell you I scarcely know where to begin! I was so afraid we'd lost you after not hearing from you in so long."

The warmth and softness of her hand upon his made his heart race intensely. "I am so sorry about that, Lissie." (How wonderful to hear him call her that again!) "We got so busy that there wasn't any time to write, and if we did have any time, all we had the strength to do was sleep."

"'Tis understandable," Felicity told him.

"Lee has grown sick of the war, of not being appreciated even though General Greene speaks on his behalf. Now Cornwallis is in Yorktown-just down the road! And Lee cannot join in the fighting. I cannot even join him in going. The war will end there, I know it will."

"I believe that it will, too, Ben," said Mr. Merriman. "You are very worried about your father, aren't you?"

Ben sighed and looked uncertain for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Truth be told, sir, I doubt my father is even _in _Yorktown. Given that he loves to travel I assume he has come west. Father is very resourceful. He would not stay where there is trouble."

Again Mr. Merriman agreed. "If I know Victor Davidson as well as I think I do, then I would say you are quite correct!"

Felicity had rarely ever heard Ben's family spoke of. She knew his father and her father were good friends, that Ben had an older brother named Nate who had gone north to live, and that he had a stepmother with two grown, married daughters from a previous marrriage. His mother had died when Ben was seven. She had never met any of them. She got the feeling that Ben and his family were not as close as the Merrimans were and wondered why that was, but now was not the time to indulge in that mystery, however. There was too much else going on.

"I've managed to catch hold of a surgeon for you, Ben," her father continued. "He can spare enough time to come from the college and take a look at your wounds. See when you might be able to travel downstairs. How do you feel?"

Ben winced. "It hurts pretty bad, sir. I think I could stand, but walking would be difficult. I feel like my bones have turned to mush! I'm just so...tired. But being here, back with all of you again, I could not ask for better medicine." _Except for a kiss from you_, _pretty Lissie_, he thought wildly, his gaze going back to her immediately. "I'll get better every day now that I'm home."

"You can wager on that!" laughed Mr. Merriman happily. "Good food, good company, a household full of beautiful women to tend to your needs..."

The two men laughed heartily while Felicity turned beet red and rolled her eyes. She hoped Father was not going to tell Ben about all of the gentlemen suitors who'd come nearly nonstop for the past two years seeking his permission for courtship and marriage. 'Twas awfully embarrassing to be talked about like a prize trophy being held out for the most suitable winner-which in turn reminded her of that queer fop Forsythe and his 'deal'. Ick! Surely Father would not bring _that _up, especially with Ben not even having been back in their home three days yet.

But Father didn't. He instead spoke of the four British captains who imposed quarter on their home...and the two British deserters who had come to King's Creek plantation to steal things, and horses...which, adding to the rock-hard lump of tension growing in Felicity's chest, led to the inevitable: "And Felicity stopped them, Ben. She had to. She..." Mr. Merriman inhaled, not knowing how to put it. His eyes met Felicity's.

"What.." Ben pressed with wide, worried eyes. "How did you stop them, Lissie? What did they do, the bastards?"

Felicity sighed. What else could be said but the truth? "They were drunk on Grandfather's wines," she explained, feeling nervous about the upcoming revelation, "and they had knocked poor Mr. Tate unconscious. They meant to take off with our horses. Nan came out with me to see how we could stop them. One of them lunged at us, and I...well...I shot one of them dead."

This time Ben did choke, and his eyes went the widest yet. "You shot a British soldier?"

"Yes." She cringed inside because she was still surprised at her own lack of remorse over it. Even though her father had held her and told her how brave she'd been and that she was only doing what she had to to protect her loved ones and what was theirs, she continued to surprise herself by her own unconventional feelings towards it. So while Ben was still reeling from this revelation, she gave him another. "And the other soldier, who had knocked himself out trying to grab us, caught hold of Nan, but decided it was better to try to grab the pistol I'd thrown down and let Nan go. I took the knife off of the dead redcoat and ran at this other soldier. We fell and struggled...He actually grabbed my wrist and helped stab himself to death."

"You killed them _both_?" Ben gaped at her. This gorgeous, grown vision of sultry beauty had killed not one, but _two_, malicious redcoats! Even as a child she had never ceased to amaze him, but now, as a young woman, she was just a relentless assault on the senses! An absolute cannon shot of surprises! "Whoosh!" he breathed, for lack of anything else to say. After an overwhelming moment of just staring at his friend, seeing her green eyes cast down indifferently to the floor, wanting to reach out and stroke that vibrant red hair, he said worriedly, "Were you or Nan hurt?"

"No." She looked at him again, evidence of her apathy over the situation plain on her face, and Ben was immediately reminded of his own insensitivity toward having to kill when he was in battle-but it had taken several battles to develop it. It had been necessary for his sanity and survival. But his beautiful Lissie had been forced to kill two and she seemed to be as unfeeling about it as he had been after several.

"I'm proud of you, Lissie," he told her firmly, and warmed all over when relief flooded her face. "Those two got what they deserved! And there's no worse a soldier than a deserter, even for the British! They should be thankful their punishment was handed to them by a beautiful girl rather than their own countrymen or the Americans!" He must have realized he'd said 'beautiful girl', for he blushed wildly, as did Felicity, who couldn't hide her smile. Mr. Merriman smiled wide himself, having not been oblivious to the way the former apprentice and his eldest daughter were smiling flirtatiously at each other.

Watching them exchange nervous, giddy smiles made him feel as joyous as a youth himself.

It was going on ten o'clock when Mr. Merriman checked his pocket watch. Both Ben and Felicity had begun to yawn involuntarily, but neither of them wanted to mention how late it was. Mr. Merriman could see that clearly. So he considered something. "Look, you youngsters," he told them (and faked a yawn for emphasis), "'tis getting later and later, and an old man such as myself needs his rest if he is to try to sell some things in his store tomorrow." He rose and stretched for added emphasis.

"Dont be silly, Father, you are not old!" Felicity protested.

"Ah, but Lissie, there is grey in my hair and a catch in my back..."

Felicity stood. "That's because you have been working very hard at the store! And what few strands of grey you have in your hair makes you look very distinguished. 'Tis rather handsome!"

Ben chuckled. He'd missed this.

Mr. Merriman shook his head, smiling mischeviously. "Methinks I've developed a rheumatism..."

"Father, really!"

He was moving toward the door, turned back and eyed his daughter amusedly. "You will be bunking on the floor again, I take it?"

Again? Ben looked up at Felicity in wonder.

"I-well, I didn't think-Ben _is _doing better now..." Felicity felt hot from her face to her feet. She hadn't thought abouther sleeping arrangement at all!

"What if he needs water in the night?" Mr. Merriman pointed out. "Or his wound starts bleeding on it's own again? Would you have him hollering for help and waking the entire house?"

"Well, no, of course not." Then she grinned. She knew what that father of hers was up to. And she was touched by it. "Mayhaps Mother would not approve. Nan certainly would not."

Mr. Merriman waved his hand dismissively. "Your mother knows that Ben needs looking after, and she'll look in on you both from time to time. And Nan, well, she's never been separated from a dear friend for so long like you have, so she is not able to understand. I find the circumstances to be special and perfectly acceptable." His sparkling blue eyes went to Ben, who seemed to be in a constant state of shock. "It's damn good to have you home alive, son. Sleep well, both of you. Good night."

"Goodnight, Father."

"Goodnight, sir!"

Even as Mr. Merriman was passing out of the room, grinning to himself, Felicity whirled around to Ben and said quickly, "I'm sorry, Ben, Father is just excited. 'Tis true, you need some supervision because of your hip wound, and I'd be very willing to sit with you as long as you need me, but you also need your rest, and I don't want-"

"Lissie," Ben interjected softly, reaching for her closest hand as he gazed up at her with mesmerized, affection-filled brown eyes, "you slept on the floor beside me last night, to watch over me. Please stay. I may be better than yesterday, but I don't want to be alone. Do you mind?"

"No, Ben," she said, surprised, her voice small. She took his hand in both of hers. "I shall stay."

He smiled, relieved. "The floor is not too uncomfortable, is it?"

"Goodness, no. I've slept on the floor plenty of times! Quite often Elizabeth, Nan and I-Polly, sometimes-would all bring our blankets into a room and stay up all hours just talking and making each other laugh. We'd have popping corn and candies and just carry on like magpies!"

"I would dearly love to have been a fly on the wall of that room," Ben commented wholeheartedly.

"Well, um, I shall fetch my bedding, then. Is there anything I can get for you as well?"

_Aye_, Ben thought amorously, _yourself as close to me as possible_! But he answered mildly, "No, Lissie. Just do hurry back."

She did indeed. She removed Ben's tray of plates to the mini-kitchen and returned to her bedchamber with her rolled up floor bedding. Still propped up against the headboard and pillows, Ben watched her as she prepared herself a bed on the floor. Though she was now clad in shift, robe, nightcap and floppy slippers, Ben marvelled at her alluring figure. The movements of the little girl he remembered were now the smooth, practiced movements of a young woman. He couldn't _help _but imagine what the legs attached to that enticing figure looked like; long, obviously, for she was a tall, willowy thing, and most likely shaped to perfection from all the time spent riding horses. Oh, yes, she had been a beautiful child, but she had become a magnificent young lady. He recalled that he had once called her a 'bit of a girl'. HA! He decided that he would now call her a beauty. _His _beauty. And he was very well aware that no one, since he regained consciousness, had said a word about her being engaged, courted, or interested in any lucky lad.

Was it too good to be true?

She wore no jewelry, no trinket of promise that might would have come from a hopeful suitor. She wore only his signal whistle, on the very same cord it had always hung from, laying upon what had to be the creamiest, most gorgeous breasts on a woman since Venus herself-

"Ben?" she asked, interrrupting his aroused wanderings. She straightened at the foot of her bedding as his intensely gazing eyes jumped from her sensuous cleavage to her curious green eyes. "Is that all you are going to do while there is still candlelight-stare at me?"

He grinned, not feeling a bit guilty. "I cannot help it. It's been so long since I've seen you that all I want to do is look at you." _Well_, _not reeallly_, thought he, _TOUCHING would be even better_...

Felicity reddened and put her hands on her hips. "Surely I cannot have changed _that _much!"

"I beg to differ, Miss Merriman." His smile was playful.

"I see then that your time in the Legion has cured you of your shyness, Captain!" she flirted back.

"Somewhat."

She couldn't help but grin back at him.'Twas open, shameless flirting, and it made her tingle with excitement all over. It meant that he liked her appearance. Well! It went both ways! He looked like a rogue pirate sitting there, long brown hair upon his broad shoulders, a waved section of that hair close to his right eye that she had to fight like mad to keep from touching and smoothing back. Brown eyes framed in dark lashes gazing steadily up at her with a shine in them that made her want to dance a jig on the spot where she stood. Open white shirt revealing a smooth, muscled chest and astonishing abdominal muscles despite the slash across his flesh. He was such a masculine sight!

Then a bothersome thought snaked into her mind: Clarissa.

Her smile faded. She _had _to know who this person was to Ben. There couvd be a hundred possible explanations, and she might feel like a heel for asking, but her very own inquisitive nature could not be denied. And she could not allow herself to get close to Ben again, in any way, and feel happy with him if his heart belonged to this Clarissa person. A broken heart was the absolute worst thing ever, Felicity Merriman had decided long ago. Be it because of the death of a loved one, or the loss of a special love, 'twas worse than any affliction to one's physical body. She did not want that to happen to her. So she asked: "Ben, may I ask you something?"

"Anything, always," Ben replied promptly, with a smile.

She attempted to smile at that, then licked her lips (a small gesture that Ben found immensely arousing), and said, "Well, 'tis rather a personal one, I believe."

He shrugged, still gazing intently at her. "It matters not."

"Very well, then. I was just wondering-you know how I am-" She took a step forward. "This morning, when I woke and I was leaning over you to see if you were all right, you mumbled something in your sleep, and it, well, made me curious."

"I did?" Ben looked mystified, as though this was news to him. Maybe it was. "What did I say?"

She studied him a moment, then said, "You were saying you needed someone named _Clarissa_."

Ben's dark eyebrows shot up. "I said that?" That I needed Cla-" He stopped in mid-sentence, thinking. Then he sighed, shook his head and even smiled, much to Felicity's befuddlement and irritation. "Oh, _now _I remember." He even chuckled! "Come here, Lissie. Sit by me, if you will, and I shall tell you."

Her face just as blank as she could make it, she sat down on the bed beside him, turned so that they faced each other. He took hold of her closest hand (which enabled him to rest his upon her closest knee, to his delight), and said, "Remember when I wrote to you about my friend Frankie Darnell and I, that we had been given a furlough and we were on our way back to Virginia from Monmouth when we became very ill?"

Felicity nodded right away. She'd read his letters over and over plenty of times. She forgot nothing.

"Well, the family who took us in, this farming family named the Dupres, they had a young daughter who helped her mother tend to us while we were ill. Her name was Clarissa, and she said to ask for her when we needed water to drink. So we did. After purging all of this horrible black stuff, we were sore thirsty! I feel like I've just spent the last five years of my life being cold and thirsty or hot and thirsty. I've actually dreamed about being thirsty!"

"So...you were wanting water when you called out for this Clarissa Dupre-person?" She couldn't keep the relief out of her voice.

"Aye," said Ben right away. "She was the one who brought water to Frankie and me. Seems like I just associate her with water!" He laughed, shaking his head. He held Felicity's hand in one of his and stroked the top of it back and forth with his other, as he was too drawn into her eyes to notice what he was doing. There was a puase of shy, awkward silence, then Ben asked, "May I ask _you _a personal question, pretty Lissie?"

"Of course, anything!" Her heart was flip-flopping about like a squirrel gone mad.

And Ben did not hesitate. "Why aren't you married?"

She drew in her breath, slowly straightened her posture stiffly, which told Ben that this was a subject she wasn't exactly too happy about, which in turn actually had him feeling relief to an extent. Her expression was tired and she sighed again stressfully. When she replied, her voice was tense. "Must you ask?"

"Aye, I must."

She frowned reluctantly. "Well, 'tis not as if I have not been asked. I've refused them all." (ALL? thought Ben in worried wonder) "Ben, that kind of change for a woman is so...final. And there's still the matter of the war, and...I have not the heart for anyone..."

_Does your heart still belong to me_, _Lissie_? He stared at her eagerly, wanting to hear her say she'd been waiting for him. Oh, he had been afraid of returning alive and finding her bound to another, knowing damn well he couldn't expect any childhood promises to be kept as adults. He had no right to expect it. But he wanted it. He wanted to hear that she had waited for him. Instantly he hated himself for wanting that. His childhood friend was now a ravishing young woman, and the mere sight of her was doing incredible things to his heart, mind, soul, and especially at the moment, body.

"Ben," she began, doing her damndest to put her feelings into words without sounding vulnerable, "I have had no interset in anyone. 'Tis like I have locked my heart away in a box that I have misplaced." _Felicity_! she raged inwardly at herself, _That is a lie_! _You know your heart is with Ben_! _Why can you not say it and be out with it_?

_Because his feelings for me may not be the same_, _that is why_! _I cannot risk a rejection from someone I have held so dear for so long_. _We are_ not _children anymore_!

But Ben, God bless him, was mighty happy about this confession and it showed all over his tanned, handsome face. 'Twas a miracle that she was unattached! It meant he had a chance to get her re-attached to himself! "I really missed you, Lissie. Really. I thought of you all the time-when I wasn't fighting, that is." He squeezed her hand.

"I thought of you, Ben, all the time, too. But I suppose that is rather obvious." And she touched the signal-whistle upon her chest (much to Ben's sheer delight). "Oh, just look at us! 'Tis late and you need your rest! Arthur and Elizabeth will want to see you as soon as possible, as soon as you feel up to having visitors. We really should be getting to sleep."

Ben didn't want to go to sleep. He wanted to stare at Felicity and keep her physically close, to talk some more about Williamsburg and the store. But his hip pained him greatly, he had to admit he needed the rest. His war-wearied body agreed that sleep would be good despite having Felicity near him to excite it. She gave him a warm smile as she rose, reluctantly pulling her hand away from his, and he watched her step to the nightstand to blow out the candle in the lantern. Light from a late-summer moon filtered throught he curtains.

"Tell me something, pretty Lissie," he began with a cryptic smile there in the dark. "Do you still love riding horses and being out of doors?"

"More than ever," replied she, smiling as well. She leaned over to adjust his pillows so he could lay flat without trouble. "It would seem that despite Mother's and Ms. Manderly's best efforts, I am still something of a wild flower."

"That's my girl," Ben said with tremendous satisfaction, catching her wrist in his hands. He kissed the back of her hand and she felt herself tingling intensely from head to toe. "I wish we could talk more."

"We will tomorrow, if you like."

"I like."

They grinned at each other there in the dark. Then Felicity went to her bedding on the floor and fluffed up her pillow, pulled up her sheet and snuggled down, wondering how she was ever going to get to sleep now, when she was so emotionally charged up over Ben being home. He had immediately turned onto his right side so he could look down at her for as long as he remained awake. Besides, he couldn't lay on his left side because of the wound-hole, and laying flat on his back had become monotonous.

"If you require anything, do wake me." She smiled up at him. "If you get thirsty again, ask for _me_!"

"I most certainly will!"

"How are you feeling?"

Ben thought about it. "Horrible. But happy."

"Benjamin Davidson!"

He snickered mischeviously. "'Tis possible to feel both at once, you know." Then he added in a more serious voice, "I feel like an old man in a young man's body, and one that has been put through the grinding mill, at that. There were so many times I thought I was never going to see you again, Lissie. During my stay at the Dupre farm I honestly believed it was the end of me. Then at Eutaw Springs...I used your knife to save myself. It was kill or be killed. 'Twas awful, Lissie."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she told him in a soft, understanding voice. "I do wish to hear about all of your adventures, though."

Ben grinned. "I knew you would. That's my Lissie." He sighed gently. "There are some things I don't want to even _think _about anymore, ever again. But I did see alot of places and meet alot of people."

"I would hear all that you can tell me." In the near-total darkness she could tell he was looking down at her. After a moment of contemplation, she asked, "Was being a soldier everything you thought it would be?"

It took him a minute to reply, which had Felicity worried, and his voice was even softer than before. "Some parts, Lissie. Not all of it. I'm glad I faught for my country's freedom, for our freedom, but I can really understand Colonel Lee's frustrations. You sacrifice yourself for one of the greatest causes anyone could fight for, and in the end what have you got to show for it? No one appreciates it, people are tired of the war, of soldiers. Those who have given the most are thought of the least."

"Oh no, Ben, that is not true!" she whispered in shock, sitting up quickly. "All of us appreciate you! We are tired of the British; tired of what they are putting us through! We are tired of the war, yes, but that is not your or Harry Lee's fault! We-"

"Lissie," he soothed with a chuckle, "I didn't mean you or your family! I meant other people, in other colonies. I know you are the most faithful of patriots. 'Twas an honor to fight for you, for all of you. But there are those who just do not care anymore."

She bit her bottom lip. "Do you really think General Washington and the French will defeat Cornwallis in Yorktown?"

"Aye," Ben replied firmly. "Cornwallis is trapped. It will end there for certain. I sure wish I could be a part of it."

Slowly, Felicity sank back down on her bedding. "Me too!"

That was SO his Felicity! Ben just grinned. But with a scowl he said, "I would dearly love to thrash those redcoats for forcing themselves into your home! Taking poor Old Bess! Damn them! Did they take Mr. Haverty's horses as well?"

"No, Mr. Haverty took Father's advice and had both the Brutuses removed to a friend's farm near King's Creek. But the British did make off with his mule and his goat, and his brother-in-law died of the pox they brought with them."

"Miserable bastards."

"Aye."

"You were a good soldier, Lissie," Ben told her earnestly. "I hate that those deserters put you into such a position, but you stood your ground. I wish that I had taught you how to use a pistol before I left, but I didn't think to. Your father did it for me, at least. You are a marvel, Felicity Merriman!"

In the dark, she reddened. "Aye, well...I did what I had to. So did you. Now we are both alive to tell our tales."

"Aye," agreed Ben wholeheartedly.

They were quiet again, both of them absorbed in a whirl of thoughts and feelings too numerous to count. About five minutes later, however, Felicity raised herself up on her elbows, having had another bout of irritability rear it's nagging head, and asked, "Ben?"

"Yes, pretty Lissie?"

"What was Clarissa Dupre like?"

Ben Davidson felt his entire body stiffen in nervousness.

Autor's Note: Now have you _ever _read a romance novel where the heroine was NOT described as fabulously gorgeous, or the hero NOT described as super-sexy? I didn't think so. That's the mode I'm writing in: drug-store romance novel. I've read enough Jackie Collins and Johanna Lindsey to know 'How it works.' So I will give you fair warning: the further into Felicity and Ben's relationship I go, the more 'adult' its gonna get. They had to grow up sometime, and in that time period a young girl's life was all about being trained to become a wife and mother, for it was widely accepted as all a female child was destined for in her life. Be thankful you live in the time you do now, ladies!


	14. Chapter 10: Love Games

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, PT2, CH 10

A flash of awkwardness made Ben Davidson feel extremely uncomfortable, and Felicity instantly took his lack of a response as a sign that she had offended him somehow, so she was the one to speak. "I'm sorry, Ben, I didn't mean to be rude, 'tis none of my business, really-"

"No, no, you're not being rude or anything near," he interrupted hastily. "I was just trying to recall what she was like." He did have to think about it a moment. "She was a year or two younger than me. Very quiet, very soft-spoken. Why do you ask?"

_Because I'm curious about your water_-_girl_, _that's why_! But it _was_ a fair question he was asking, after all. She said as indifferently as she could, "Oh, no reason, really. Just wondering about the people who took care of you whilst you were sick."

"They were kind, generous people. Every one of them was as yellow-headed as early daffodills." This made him laugh a little. "Frankie was quite taken with Clarissa."

Oh reeally! The clang of warning bells went off in Felicity's head. She frowned irately, but asked as nonchalantly as she could, "She was pretty?"

"Well, sure, I guess you could say that," Ben replied casually. He really didn't want to discuss this topic. Especially now, here alone with Felicity, whom he'd missed more than words could express. "Pretty in the way that we fellows think that _all _girls are pretty...except for those that have big teeth and eyelash twitches-that scares the hell out of us."

Felicity's laugh was snorty, a sound Ben had missed very much. "So...did Clarissa become taken with Frankie?"

Damn. He was afraid that she'd ask that. "No, not quite," he told her cooly. "But we didn't stay long enough for them to become close. By the time we were well enough to walk, Lee needed us back at camp. Most of our time there was spent moaning and purging the black stuff."

"Ick," commented Felicity sourly.

"Exactly."

"Whatever happened to Frankie?"

"Not long after we both got well enough for active duty, Frankie Darnell was transferred to William Washington's horse troop, and I never saw him again." _Please do not ask any more_, _Lissie_! "Tis all in the past now!

Felicity was yawning involuntarily again now, her itch to know more having been temporarily scratched. She snuggled back down under her sheet and murmured, "I thought I'd never see you again, but you were always on my mind and in my prayers. God has indeed been so gracious to give you back to us. Oh, there's so much to catch up on! Sleep well, Captain Davidson."

"Good night, pretty Lissie." He smiled down at her, felt his heart skip a beat when he saw her luscious red locks tumble off her shoulder and out onto the pillow. She was an amazing beauty. If someone had told him a week ago that he would soon be back under the Merriman's roof, with his dearest friend in the world tending to his every need, he would have never believed it. But here he was, back among friends and familiar, well-loved sights and sounds. Back among people who loved him and wanted him. Back with his beloved Felicity, who still wore his signal whistle and gazed at him with such adoring eyes.

The past was best left to the past. He decided then and there, staring down at the incredible beauty who blinked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, that he most certainly wanted Felicity Merriman for his own. He had no doubt about it. She would be his.

_Oh_, _girl I've known you very well. _

_I've seen you growing everyday, I never really looked before_, _but now you take my breath away. _

_Suddenly you're in my life_, _part of everything I do. _

_You got me working day and night just trying to keep a hold on you. _

_Here in your arms I found my paradise_, _my only chance for happiness. _

_And if I lose you now I think I would die! _

_Oh say you'll always be my baby_, _we can make it shine. _

_We can take forever just a minute at a time._

_More than a woman_, _more than a woman to me._

-excerpt from _'More Than A Woman_" by the BeeGees

Ben woke to find Felicity already up and gone, for her bedding was also gone. He smelled grits and bacon, coffee and fresh bread, and just as he was getting his eyes adjusted to the bright morning light, in came his patriot beauty, looking absolutely scrumptious in a buttery-yellow dress with white trimmings, carrying a tray of delicious food and a small pitcher of something that was bound to be good also. The breakfast smelled wonderful and the girl carrying it looked so ravishing that Ben felt like a bit of a cad sitting there in her bed with a feral appetite and an erection to match. His smile was sleepy and sloppy, whereas hers was bright and cheerful.

"Good morning, Captain Davidson!" she said, sitting the tray down before him, bringing an intoxicatingly sweet wave of lavender scent to his nostrills, along with the smells of the food as she did. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Not sure," Ben said with a grin as he sat back against the pillows she stood up for him. "Is breakfast ready for _me_?"

She laughed that cute, rambunctious laugh that was like music to his ears. "Verily, as you can see. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Hungry," replied he straight away, not looking at the tray but at the girl who had delivered it. She clamped a hand over his forehead, and for all the effect this gesture had on him, she may as well have clamped her hand _somewhere else_! He silently gave thanks to the Lord above that he was wearing breeches and had the sheets bunched up around his waist so that she could not see just _how _hungry he really was!

"No fever!" she reported merrily.

_Bets? _thought Ben amorously. As he ate he watched her open the curtains wide, raise the windows, and pour him a glass of buttermilk from the small pitcher on the tray. He wasn't watching what she was doing, but more like watching her body's movements as she did her activities. She had a graceful neck, with a roll of curled red locks laying against it. As always, his signal whistle hung about that beautiful white neck, inspiring his lazy gaze to drift down it's cord to her breasts, causing his pants to tighten considerably. He inhaled tightly.

It wasn't like she was oblivious to his staring. She knew his eyes were on her, but she didin't know whether to be flattered or self-conscious. But it was making her a bit nervous as well as tingly all over. Her back was to him as she rearranged the flowers in their white glass vase on her dresser, for lack of anything else to do. "Are you going to eat or keep staring at me?"

"Both."

She turned around with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.

He wasn't a bit shy about it at all. "I haven't seen you in so long I can't help it. You've changed, Lissie." His voice was husky even though his mouth was full of food.

"You think so?" She looked doubtful of that.

His eyes flicked over her. "I know so."

She reddened and felt very warm all over. "Yes, well...so have you!"

"You noticed." He was mighty pleased about that.

Excitement was mounting inside her and it was difficult to get a grip on it. She ambled over to a bedpost at the foot of the bed and leaned against it with folded arms. "Well how could I not? Look at you! You're no longer the skinny lad of seventeen that I last saw. Oh, you are still skinny all right, but not like before. You need to eat more. Get your strength back."

Ben's expression turned playful again. "That's _all _you noticed?"

She blushed, sensing that he was pressing for more, but for what exactly she did not know, so her tone was uncertain. "You hair is longer...you are just as tall as you were at eighteen..." What did he _want_ to hear? She could only state the obvious! "'Twould seem you have, um, a more developed musculature..." Her faerie-face was getting redder and hotter, and Ben was grinning wider and wider. "Oh, blast it all, Ben Davidson, do shut up and eat your breakfast!" She whirled and strode out the door.

But at least she'd been grinning, too, Ben had noticed.

After eating such a mighty breakfast, Ben's hip began to pain him again, and a dizzy spell came upon him so that he could do nothing but sleep. And he had wanted to try standing up! He craved Felicity's attention, but Mrs. Merriman informed him of her presence being needed at Elizabeth's house for the continued work on the blond girl's wedding gown. He was disappointed, but happily distracted by Arthur Pratt's dropping in to see him. The joyful blond Brit strode right over to him and hugged him so hard that Ben's sore ribs began to be sore all over again. But he was secretly thrilled to know his return meant so much to such a good friend.

After spending a couple of hours listening to Arthur rave on about his upcoming nuptuals to Elizabeth, and William joining them to listen in on Ben's tales of some of the Legion's daring exploits (during which both Will and Arthur remained riveted with awe-struck eyes and mouths forming perfect O's), Ben once more succombed to much-needed rest. He was just getting into an enjoyable dream about stealing a kiss from Felicity, when he was roused from sleep yet again by a very familiar voice...

"Well I'll be goddamned, it's Ben Davidson!"

Ben raised his head, blinked in confusion. There at the foot of the bed, leaning against the post like he had all the time in the world, was none other than sandy-haired Walter Wheaton, complete with rougish grin and devil-may-care expression. Ben grinned back at him drowzily. "That's _Captain _Davidson to you, civilian!"

"I just _hated _to interrupt you beauty sleep, old man, but I wanted to come see if the rumor was true."

"What rumor?"

"Oh, the one about the Ladies' Man of Lee's Legion being back in Williamsburg!"

Ben laughed incredulously. "You cannot mean _me_, surely!"

"Actually, no," Walter laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his thickened neck. "I just wanted to see how you would react!" He came forward and shook Ben's hand heartily. "Welcome home, Ben."

"Thanks, Walt."

"So when's the wedding?"

_What_? "What do you mean, _what _wedding?" Ben asked bewilderedly as Walter pulled up a chair.

"'What wedding'?" Walter repeated, grinning and shaking his head. "Why yours and Lissie's of course!"

Ben grew hot all over. "Felicity and I aren't-that is, I haven't proposed or even-why would you think that-"

Walter was laughing jubilantly. "He hasn't even propsed, the stupid dollop!" He laughed to himself aloud as Ben gaped at him. "Ben, have you even _looked _at that girl?"

"Of course I have!"

"Then what the hell are you waiting for? Do you have any idea how much the fellows in this town despise you? Why, you're in greater danger of getting thrashed than any persimmon tree ever was!"

Ben's eyebrows jumped up. "Why?"

Walter slapped a hand to his forehead in disbelief and comedic drama. "Did you take a blow to the head as well as a musket ball to the hip? That red-headed heart-breaker has turned down each and every single sodding proposal of courtship and marriage for the past two years! You know why, you wounded twit!"

Ben had to admit, yes, he had wondered if he was the reason. She still wore his signal whistle. It was an immensely flattering notion, to say the least. But maybe, just maybe, Felicity's fear of marriage and the loss of her independence had a great deal more to do with it than just him. True, a woman was expected to change to suit her new husband, to go right from being an innocent young girl to being a skillful mother and wife. Felicity hated change. She was determinedly independent and willful. Ben could absolutely see that as her main reason for resisting marriage.

Walter chuckled as Ben contemplated. "She even turned down Dickie Darvish the day after she turned sixteen!"

Ben's mouth dropped open once again in shock. "Dickie Darvish proposed to Lissie?"

"Yup," Walter grinned. "He's blind, Ben, not stupid." Then he sighed. "But...he died of the pox just after the British brought it into Williamsburg with them during the occupation. Damn them all."

"Aye," scowled Ben in complete agreement. After an awkward moment he had to ask, "I guess _you _proposed to her, too?"

There was a playful sparkle in Walter's dark blue eyes. "I was wondering if you were gonna ask me that." He sat back in the chair. "When she was fourteen I wanted to. But I knew it was pointless, Ben. She has never given a damn about any fellow but you in all of these five years. She's got that Godforsaken signal whistle of yours hanging around her neck to remind everyone where, or with whom, I should say, her heart is."

Ben smiled, unable to resist the swell of his heart...or his loins.

"As for myself, Ben Davidson, 'twas useless of me to keep hoping that Felicity would see me as more than a friend, so fate was most kind to me in sending me a love of my very own in the form of pretty Jenny Bentley."

As Walter grinned knowingly, it suddenly dawned on Ben what his friend was getting at. "You're married?"

Walter grinned proudly. "You bet I am, and glad to be. Got myself a son, too!"

"WOW!"

"Little rascal's named George, after General Washington. See, I never went into the army like you did, Ben. Someone had to stay here and look after all of the lovely ladies! Really, though, quite a few times I nearly enlisted, but I just couldn't when Mr. Ramsey begged me not to, told me that he'd make me a full partner there at the print shop, so I gave in. In early '80 I met Jenny, who'd come from Spring Hill with her family, and I just lost myself in those brown eyes of hers." He sighed happily. "She and her father came into the print shop wanting to run an article announcing her father's work as a blacksmith. We took an instant liking to each other, and, well, here I am with a wonderful wife and a son to boot! He's almosr a year old, George is."

"Wow. I'm happy for you, Walt, truly I am," Ben told him admirably. "When do I get to meet Jenny and George?"

"Soon as you can walk, old man. You're always welcome at our home. As long as we're here, anyway, and then you're welcome to wherever it is we move to."

Ben frowned worriedly. "What do you mean?"

"Business is not doing so good here any more, as you've no doubt heard, my friend. When the capitol moved to Richmond, things slowed down. But it was tolerable then. And then Cornwallis came and pretty much ruined every business there was here for everyone. A lot of folks left for good, and some men's businesses were so riuned that they simply gave them up for good. Mr. Ramsey died of the pox just after the British left, but at least we were able to hide the printer before the soldiers came. He left me the business in his will. Now here I am, a proprietor with hardly a business with a wife and a son to support." He paused, considering Ben a moment. "Have you thought about what you're going to do now that you're home?"

Ben sighed stressfully. No, he hadn't really thought about it...other than being taken by Felicity. "The war's not even over yet. It soon will be, you mark me, it will, but I can't even accompany Colonel Lee to Yorktown to see it through! I'm certainly not fit for duty anymore. Lee himself discharged me. Mr. Merriman says he'll take me to Richmond for my merchan'ts certificate when I'm ready." He shook his head. "Mr. Merriman is thinking of quitting his store soon and moving out to the family's plantation."

"Aye," Walter replied, "he told me that, too, not too long before you came back. Did you know that that ol' poppinjay Forsythe even offered Mr. Merriman money to repair and restock his store if he'd give Felicity to him in marriage?"

"WHAT!" Ben sat up so straight that a blazing white hot stab of pain shot up his side and down his leg, radiating like mad from his wound."That whoreson! I thought I'd never hear that name again! Are you telling me that in five years' time, that blackard has not given up on getting Lissie?"

"Apparently not." Walter shrugged and looked annoyed. "My Jenny made fast friends with Elizabeth and Felicity, so she knows all about the odd little weasel like the rest of us, and he makes Jenny nervous. She doesn't know whether to burst out laughing or fetch the constable when she sees him staring at Felicity."

Ben proceeded to swear in ways that Walter Wheaton had never heard before, but did not doubt that he'd learned such colorful varieties of curses in the Legion. All he could do was grin and thank the Lord that there were no ladies present.

"Damn, I wish I could get out of this bed and walk! I'd pulp that bastard until he would have to be buried in a jelly jar!" Ben looked ready to snap. "When will Lissie be home from Elizabeth's?"

"Oh, worry you not, Captain Davidson," Walter grinned, trying to get Ben to lighten up. "The fair Felicity will return before the day is out, so try not to pop your stitches, if you have not already!" He glanced at Ben's bandaged hip.

Ben grimaced and sat back, slowly and carefully. "Why didn't Felicity or her father tell me about Forsythe already?"

His friend sighed, shrugged."Probably too excited to have you home alive. Maybe they just wanted to forget about him and concentrate on you, you big drumstick! After all, Forsythe hasn't done anything to harm Lissie, or anyone else, and he's not violated any law. If a man could be put in prison for simply being annoying, then the gaol would be overflowing! Maybe they thought you'd get angry and pop your stitches. Heh! Imagine that!"

Ben muttered something unrepeatable beneath his breath.

'Twas late afternoon when Walter left, leaving Ben with the promise of coming to see him again soon. Felicity had still not returned, and Ben was getting even more restless. He asked Mrs. Merriman if he might have a bath, so she and Rose fetched for him the bathing tub and hot water. He assured them that he could tend to himself then. Moving slowly, he found that standing was not such a painful chore after all, but 'twas walking that hurt like hell. He had not popped any of his stitches in the course of his rage, but he was in pain. Each of the four steps it required to get to the tub was a stab to the hip, but the wound remained closed.

Apparently, it didn't bother the wound to be immersed in very warm water, either. The hot, steaming water felt so good to his sore, stiff muscles that it seemed to him a wonder why people avoided the bath so much! So he relaxed in the tub and thought about Felicity. As if he could think of anything else. He came to the conclusion that when, not if, he saw Forsythe again, he would pulp the bastard thorougly. The fop was long due a good pulping. Yes. He would pulp Lord Forsythe, plead self-defence or protection of a woman, or some such argument, and most definately get away with it, because he was a man of Lee's Legion, and men of the Legion were gods. They did as they pleased, to whomever they pleased, for the love of God and country. And for Felicity Merriman.

Felicity hadn't planned on being gone so long, but she and Nan had just completed a great deal of sewing on the sleeves of Elizabeth's gown. Mrs. Cole made them some scones to hold them over until they were home for dinner, then the two Merriman sisters were escorted home by Corporal Lucien LaCroix and a friend of his. Felicity and Nan had lost all track of time, having been so into their sewing and chatting with Elizabeth about Ben. Elizabeth had recieved a letter from her father saying that he would be home soon with Annabelle and Annabelle's fiance, the Major Basil Crumb. Felicity couldn't wait to set eyes upon the man who would be marrying Bananabelle Cole!

She and Nan had a good laugh about it on their way into the mini-kitchen. "She'll become Annabelle Cole-Crumb!" Nan giggled wickedly. "Or just Bananabelle Crumb, if you will!"

"Or Crumby ol' Bananabelle," Felicity snickered.

As soon as they entered the mini-kitchen, they were greeted by sweet Polly, who sat beside William at the prep table, beaming up at them with enthusiasm. "We're having chocolate!"

"That's nice." Felicity glanced around. "Where are Mother and Rose this afternoon?"

"Out in the big kitchen," said William, who's legs swung in synch under the table with Polly's. It struck Felicity as hilarious the way the two of them seemed to be oblivious to the goings on of their bottom-halves. William nudged a mug full of steaming hot chocolate towards Felicity. "This is for Ben. You are to take it up to him at once."

"Oh, am I?" Felicity grinned down at her two giggly siblings.

"Aye." William's eyes had a mischevious sparkle in them. "Mother and Rose are too busy, and Ben is thirsty. He's supposed to ask for you when he needs something to drink, remember?"

"Go on," Nan sighed. "I'll help Mother and Rose with dinner. Father will probably be famished when he gets home and ready to eat with us."

Curious it was, that William and Polly looked at each other and burst out into an uncontrollable fit of snickers just as soon as Felicity left the room with Ben's hot mug of chocolate. Nan eyed them suspiciously. "Now what are _you _two on about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

The mug of hot chocolate no sooner made one of her hands burn than she had to transfer it to the other hand. She had to be extra careful ascending the stairs with it. Ben must be getting better if he told William that she was the one to get him anything he wanted to drink. If he was willing to wait for her to get home just to have something to quench his thirst, then he must surely be in better health already, she mused. According to Elizabeth, Arthur was supposed to have come by for a visit earlier, so perhaps a great deal of laughter was just what the wounded soldier needed!

She didn't hear any sounds coming from her bedchamber as she approached, but then she wasn't exactly listening for any, either. She was too busy trying not to spill the hot contents of the mug. And she was eager to see Ben after having been gone all day-she couldn't help it! Those soulful brown eyes, that sly smile, that certain whatever it was in which she had no name for yet that made her want to be close to him physically...all of that was pressing upon her provocatively. She even began grinning uncontrollably as she reached for the doorknob and pushed the door open.

"Ben?"

"Lissie?"

Felicity gasped in shock as Ben stood straight up in the bathing tub completely, utterly, totally stark dripping naked! Water sloshed dangerously out of the wooden tub and out across the floor boards as they stood there gaping at each other.

"Oh my God!" Felicity shut her eyes tight (as though it wasn't too late not to see anything in particular, which it was) and turned for the little flower table nearest the door. "Oh Ben, I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were-_EEEP_!" The hot mug was burning her hands in the midst of her shock. She squealed involuntarily, stumbled, sloshed the scalding hot liquid over a hand as she put the mug down on the little table. Ben was hastilly trying to reach for the cotton sheet folded up on a stool near the tub.

She whirled for the door with her eyes closed tight, but her shoes-the black ones she wore for daily routine which had soles worn slick from continual use, slid on the wet floor and she began to go down with a small yelp. Ben saw and reacted without thinking, stepping out of the tub in time to catch her with both arms. Tightly.

Felicity stared, dumbstruck and shaking, into Ben's wide brown eyes, tense but vulnerable in his grip. She didn't know what to say, how to react, just stare. His body was hot and hard, hot from the bath. The warm moisture on his skin was quickly being absorbed into her dress. She felt a rush of intense heat from face to foot. Ben's eyes flicked over her, noting the rapid heaving of those gorgeous breasts as she managed to catch a deep breath.

She licked her lips and spluttered, "I-I think I b-better..."

"Aye," Ben said, his voice husky, not really paying attention to what she said, but to the allure of her eyes and the beauty of her faerie-pricess face. The impish pixie-girl of five years ago was now, without a doubt, a sultry temptress who had nary a clue as to the effect she had on a man. God love her, she was totally oblivious. She was all but ready to be ravished, with himself doing the ravishing, of course. He would have it no other way. Could she feel what she was doing to him? The effect she had on him now? They were not children any longer. They were a young man and a young woman with all of the emotions of such. He held her tight in his well-toned muscular arms, firmly against his sleek, damp chest, but it was he who felt captured, entranced.

Aroused.

So aroused he found it hard to breathe. Should she happen to look down-again-she would see that for herself, for he had not been able to grab his sheet in time to cover himself. His voice was huskier than ever. "You, um, should stand-"

"I can...I'll just...go now." She found her footing as Ben helped her upright. With her eyes squeezed shut again she quickly made for the door as Ben finally snatched up the sheet and whipped it around his waist. Felicity stumbled, whacked herself in the forehead opening the door, but slipped out, closing the door fast behind her.

Whoosh!

At the top of the stairs Felicity clutched the railing with both hands and panted, her senses returning bit by bit. She had no idea Ben was in the bathing tub! He was supposed to be in the bed! She still trembled some, felt the damp from off of Ben's body now cooling against her skin. And she had seen him naked! It had been quick, aye, but...naked was naked! _Why did you not knock_, _you silly goose_? _Because you did not think_, _that is why_! _Now Ben will think you are the dumbest weed that ever lived_! _You never think_! _Why do you never think first_?

Oh, there was no way she could go back in to see him now! He'd laugh at her, call her a child, never ever take her seriously again. He probably would never be able to look at her without seeing an immature ding-bat ever again. Oddly, though, she didn't feel humiliated. Embarrassed, but not shy. Idiotic, but not too shameful. But so much for being the mature, mindful young woman she wanted to show him she was!  
Still...in all honesty she didn't know whether to continue scolding herself or just set to giggling like crazy. Part of her wanted to run right back to Elizabeth's house and tell her best friend what had just happened so that they could giggle about it together! She was feeling quite naughty and giggly right then.

_Completely naked_!

Nan appeared at the foot of the stairs, her blue eyes wild with worry. "Felicity, did you just..."

"Take Ben his hot chocolate?" Felicity inhaled, smoothed her skirts with hands red from the sloshing of the hot liquid. Struggling to keep her composure, she came down the stairs as calmly as possible. "Certainly!"

"Well, I just got it out of those two tricksters we are related to that they believed that Ben was taking a bath, and that they meant for you to walk in on him!" Nan looked greatly aggravated, a pink flush upon her lovely cheeks. "Say you did not!"

Felicity felt quite flushed herself. "Oh, Ben was definately done with his bath when I came in!"

"Whew! It would have been most improper to have walked in on a man whilst he's in his bath! Those two witless wonders had better thank the Lord that their plan was not successful! I myself was fully prepared to give them what for!"

"Oh, Nan, you didn't!"

"No, but I will if you would like me to!"

Felicity thought about it. True, she was a bit sore at Will and Polly for setting her up for such a prank, but she just couldn't be mad at them for long. After all, it was ultimately her own fault for not having announced her presence before entering. She should have known better. She just shook her head and smiled at Nan with amusement. "Just never mind them, Nan, no harm done. I'll speak to them later about never doing that again."

"Very well, sister." Convinced (and therefore relieved) that no act of impropriety had taken place, Nan smiled cheerfully once again and exhaled deeply. "Well, let's get supper on the table, shall we?"

"Of course."

Felicity didn't let on that anything had happened. She really did want to keep it to herself, so she didn't even scold her younger siblings after all. She asked Rose to take Ben his dinner that evening, and she placed her bedding on the floor beside Polly's bed to sleep there. When asked by Mrs. Merriman if all was well and that Ben would not need anything in the night, Felicity blushed intensely and said Ben would be fine, and she was sure he would be.

That night, Ben could not sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about how good Felicity felt in his arms, the fast rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed in shock after walking in on him naked then nearly falling flat onto her rump. He'd never in his life felt such a need, a hunger beyond anything he had ever experienced before in his life! The look of astonishment on her beautiful face had been delightfully comical as well as arousing, which had added evern more to his growning carnal appetite.

What would Edward Merriman think if he knew his apprentice desired to bed his daughter? What would the beauty herself think if _she _knew he wanted to bed her?

His and William's plan had worked too well! She was supposed to walk in on him after he was completely out of the bathing tub, with a sheet around him. Will had been prepared to confess that the idea had been his, and all little Polly knew was that Ben was going to surprise her big sister. But Ben's sore hip had slowed his progress and he hadn't been able to move fast enough when he heard Felicity and Nan return. However, he was able to move fast enough when he she'd been falling, without a second thought to the agonizing pain of his wound! Now he was feeling it! But it had been absolutely worth it! Just to get his arms full of beautiful Felicity...and hold that amazing young woman's body so tightly against him. That had him smiling rather goonishly.

But she hadn't come back in since. She was probably embarrassed. He was, too, but only a bit. The matured soldier in him was secretly flattered. She had only glimpsed him for a few seconds...a few _long _seconds, but that was more than enough time for her to have seen everything. He sure didn't want to frighten her, but he wanted to tell her not to blame herself or feel guilty about it. If only she'd just come back in! He'd explain everything!

Felicity Merriman could not sleep. She actually felt giddy, going back over in her mind walking in on Ben in his bath. In his all-together. He was, in every way, a man! She was not so naive that she didn't know how men were different from women, but she had never seen a naked _man _before! That was not supposed to happen until the Wedding Night! But what happened happened, and she wasn't feeling too guilty anymore. She kept her vision of sopping wet Ben, unclothed, in her mental images quite palinly, and couldn't stop herself from grinning there in the dark. She had to slap a hand over her own mouth to keep from giggling, but nothing could stop the feelings of intense heat blazing through her body at the image of him standing there like that.

Naked!

Tomorrow, after breakfast, she decided, she would go back in to see him, to see how things were between them. See if she needed to appologize. See if...if he thought anything of her at all. And why should it matter what he thought of her at all? Because he was _Ben_. Her friend, whom she had painfully missed for five lonely years. Becuase he was a part of her life and family. Because even though she had acted without thinking yet again, there still needed to be some kind of understanding between them. Tomorrow she would find out just what that understanding would be!

Mrs. Merriman took Ben his breakfast the next morining, telling him Felicity would be in soon, that she was out in the barn with Penny and Patriot, and Ben accepted that. But he was still very eager to see her! Quite anixious, in fact. William and Polly went out early to watch the French and American soldiers mustering, Mr. Merriman and Marcus went to open the store, and Nan went walking with Lucien LaCroix. That left Felicity, Rose and Mrs. Merriman to themselves for the day. That was, until Felicity answered the door sometime around noon, having just washed up from her chores in the barn.

She had just been a moment away from going upstairs to see Ben-had her foot on the bottom step, actually-when she heard the soft knock upon the door. "I'll get it!" she hollored to Rose in the mini-kitchen, being the only one in the house nearest the door, anyway. No one had been expected, unless some French or Continental soldier was in need of something, or a French soldier coming to call on Nan, Felicity mused, which would be futile for the soldier, for Nan was with Lucien.

But it was no soldier.

As soon as Felicity opened the door, her easy-going, pleasant smile faded. 'Twas by far no man standing there, no soldier, not even the dreaded Forsythe. It was a young woman of about twenty or twenty-one, it would seem, and she was the most stunning, breathtaking creature Felicity Merriman had seen in all of her sixteen years. Her hair was so blond it was nearly white. Underneath the fine bergere hat she wore, stray wisps of platinum stirred almost angelically. He face was like porcelean, totally devoid of blemish and freckle. Her mouth was small and pink, perfectly fitting her slender little nose, and her eyes were such a startling pale shade of blue. So clear, so bright, so...angellic! Felicity had never seen eyes that color of blue before. Her dress was a gorgeous silky sky blue, seemingly drawing one's eyes back up to the face, where even her eyelashes and eybrows were pale blond! Her neck and shoulders were elegantly shaped, and around her neck she wore a simple silk sky blue ribbon for a choker. Her hands were clad in pristine, white-lace gloves.

Somehow, some way, Felicity just knew...

"Um, good day, Miss," the Angel began, in a voice so sweet and clear, that Felicity immediately knew that this was a fragile, meek creature, soft-spoken and shy. She even curtsied most properly!

...that this was Clarissa Dupre.

Felicity found her voice, though her throat had gone quite dry and her heart seemingly had turned to lead. "May I help you?"

"I-I hope so," replied the Angel timidly. "Is this the Merriman House?"

"Yes," said Felicity, with an unwarranted touch of anger.

"I was told by a gentleman at the Governor's Palace that a, um, Captain Davidson was residing here? Please, Miss, is that so?"

Damn! So humble, so anticipating! Felicity wanted to shout "NO!" and slam the door right in the young woman's perfect face. But she knew, bitterly, that such horrible behavior would come back to bite her in the bum sooner rather than later. She should not-could not-lie. Jealousy flamed hot in her chest, protesting this female's presence. _So _this _is your water_-_girl_, _eh_, _Ben_? _Methinks mayhaps your need for this Clarissa is not so watery after all_!

"Aye. Captain Davidson is here," Felicity replied tightly, sxhaling sharply. She remained still. Uninviting. Ungentlewomanly.

"MY name is Clarissa Dupre, Miss," the Angel went on imploringly, either too excited to be here to notice Felicity's coldness, or too well-mannered to. It mattered not, for she seemed ready to burst into begging to be allowed admittance to the house to see Ben. "I am an aquaintence of the Captain's. May I please see him?"

_Well_, _I'll be hell_-_smacked_, Felicity thought burningly, pursing her lips. _The man with the spectacles probably told her where to find Ben just to spite me for being loud in the ballroom_! _What man_ COULD _resist this_ .._this_.._VENUS_! Felicity knew that it was within her power as a mistress of the house to let her in or not. She could say, "No, he is wounded and needs much rest," which was true, but implied that he could not recieve visitors, which was not. In telling her that, she risked another visit. As humble and peacefully gentle as the young woman was, she did seem to be eager. She would want to come back and try again.

But in letting Miss Dupre in to see him, at least Felicity would know without a doubt where things stood with her and Ben finally. Best to get it over with.

"Very well. Come in."

CHAPTER FINISHED!


	15. Chapter 11: Miss Dupre

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2 CH.11

Felicity's reluctance showed as she stepped back and Miss Clarissa Dupre stepped in, bringing with her the scent of gardenias as she did, making Felicity hate her all the more. As the young woman began removing her hat and gloves with such feminine, graceful movements, Felicity turned her back and said, "Wait here. I'll tell him he has a visitor."

Felicity clomped upstairs feeling rageful, awkward and evil, like an ugly old weed compared to the pristine rose of Clarissa Dupre. There was no way she could hide the scowl from her face. No way Ben could place his affections on her when there existed such an angel. _Angel! Humph!_ The idiot Forsythe popped into her whirling thoughts. _Here's an angel for you, Reggie! Why dont you latch on to HER and leave me the hell alone!  
_She decided 'twas best if she just kept her composure and said as little as possible. She straightened her back stiffly as she came to her own bedchamber door and knocked twice with her knuckles.

"That you, Lissie?" Ben called cheerfully. "Come in!"

She opened the door casually, just enough to let herself in. Ben was sitting up against the headboard, fully dressed, although his white shirt was open to reveal his muscualr chest and the slash across it. He grinned playfully, raised his arms up and rested his head on top of his folded hands. "Couldn't stay away from me, huh?"

She did not smile, nor did she come any further than the nearest bedpost. Her arms remained limp at her sides. She gave him a direct, steely look. All she said in her icy tone was, "You have a visitor."

His grin widened friskally. "I do? And just who might it-"

"BEN!"

The door swung wide open, and in swept Clarissa Dupre in all of her ethereal, gardenia-scented beauty. Felicity's emotionless green eyes just continued to stare at him as his mouth droped open, eyes wide in shock, his upper half raised up as much as the wound would allow. He looked at Clarissa, then at Felicity, who held his gaze for just one more heartbeat, then she turned away as Miss Dupre rushed to Ben's side. Felicity did not look back as she quietly quit the room, pulling the door all the way together behind her.

Numbly, she went directly downstairs and into the mini-kitchen, where Rose was already fetching plates for the day's dinner out of their cabinet. She was quiet as she sat down at the prep table and let her hands just drop into her lap. She stared at the floor boards expressionlessly. Her mind had gone blank, but it was spinning furiously. She was thinking nothing. She was thinking everything.

"That another handsome man for Miss Nan?" Rose asked with a smile as she sat a stack of plates on the table. "Law, she sure knows how to bring 'em!"

"No, Rose," Felicity sighed moodily. "'Tis a young woman. For Ben."

Rose stopped in mid-reach for the drinking glasses, looked at Felicity in surprise. "I don' reckin!"

"Aye. She belongs to the family that took care of Ben and his friend when they were sick. They are probably all over each other by now."

"Now hush that talk!" Rose scolded gently. "You know Ben aint never had his eye on any gal but you! Child, we _all _know that!"

"Once upon a time, he did," Felicity murmured wistfully. "Sometimes, Rose, I feel so stupid for setting my heart on things too much. Everybody knows how much I hate change, too. Seems like every change gets worse than the one before!" She shook her head. "Ben is a grown man now. He thinks, acts and has the needs of one."

Rose paused from her work to put her hands on her hips . "Miss Lissie, in case you aint noticed, you aint no little girl no more. You a grown woman! I'd tell you how many fine fellows would a-testify to that, but I done lost count after _fifteen_!"

Felicity leaned back against the table edge and shrugged indifferently.

"Look, Missy, what I'm sayin' is that you old enough to know you can't always trust what you see. How many times yo' father tell you that?"

"But-"

"Don' you 'but' me, Miss Lissie! Jus' don' you go an' pass the judgement when you aint got all th' facts!"

"Well, I suppose not..."

Rose pointed to the glasses in the cabinet. "Why don' you make yo'self useful an' set the table? We got dinner to fix. Miss Nan'll most likely bring that 'Lucie Lacoy' fella home with 'er along with ten of his best friends!"

Felicity cocked an eyebrow at that. "Mayhaps he wouldn't if you and Mother were not such fine cooks."

"Aw, Miss Lissie, soldier'll eat anything!"

She and Rose set the dining room table, which took all of about fifteen minutes. Felicity kept glancing toward the doorway, straining her ears to hear the slightest sound, looking for any indication that Miss Dupre was leaving. Of course, there was none. The tension in her body, the flame of jealously burning her up inside-she didn't know how to deal with it! Since the moment she had seen Ben lying feverish on the floor of the ballroom, she had thought of him as exclusively hers. Her Ben, her best friend, hers to love. Lord yes, he was devestatingly handsome; her attraction to him physically gave her such sensations that she had never felt before in her life, enough to send her into a squirming frenzy. But all of the love that she had felt for him five years ago had been put into reserve so that she could endure his being gone. Seeing him again for the first time in five years brought that love thundering back, complete with the lightning of attraction and a hail storm of emotions.

He still called her _pretty_. Pretty Lissie. Same thing he called her five years ago. He said she'd changed. Yes, she had changed physically. Mayhaps he really did think she was pretty. But what was she compared to to the likes of Miss Dupre, who in Felicity's mind was almost too beautiful to be allowed on earth. How could he _not _want her?

She went with Rose, dutifully, out to the big kitchen to join her mother in making bread pudding. Then Rose and Mrs. Merriman, who knew Ben had a visitor (but not such a dreamy visitor!) went into the house, leaving Felicity to sweep the floor...which she did vigorously, imagining she was sweeping Clarissa Dupre out along with the dust. Then she went to the corral in which Penny and Patriot were grazing in, to check their water trough, make sure they had enough water. She glanced up at her bedroom windows suspiciously.

What, if anything, was going on in there?

Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe, just maybe, Ben and Miss Dupre were friends and nothing more. They were just catching up, mayhaps speaking of Frankie Darnell and whereabouts he might be. Maybe once again her own insecurities had gotten the better of her and she was just over-reacting. Ben was not the only hot-headed one, sometimes!

_You will feel quite the fool if it turns out that they are merely friends, _she told herself strictly. _But you will feel like an even bigger fool if they are not! What is it exactly that you are wanting from Ben, anyway? His attentions? His love? More? You are not obliged to him, nor him to you. 'Tis wrong to place expectations on him just having come home from the war! Perhaps he wishes to court other girls before he makes any decision about his future!_

_But I DO love him! Oh I do, I do! I've always loved him! I just can't STOP loving him! I swore I would not get too excited or too close, but I have, I have! This is all happening too fast!_

She sat in the barn where it was cooler, telling herself nothing was for certain, that nothing truly lasted forever, and that some how she was just going to have to cope. She heard the laughter of William and Polly, went to the barn doors and saw them running along in front of Nan and Lucien LaCroix, who were arm-in-arm and strolling casually. She felt a small spark of envy for her younger sister's happiness with the dashing young French soldier.

Interesting about Nan. For a girl soon to be fourteen, she was already a more mature gentlewoman than Felicity was. And quite the coquette! It seemed that in Nan Merriman's wisdom she had learned that her attractiveness had allowed her a certain power over the fellows that she clearly enjoyed weilding. She could attract and enchant, but never yet gave a promise of devotion to any of them, not even to LaCroix as yet. She could not blame Nan, really; a woman had precious little control over anything of her own in this unfair world they lived in, so if using her God-given charms to hold sway over her male admirers gave her some satisfaction and sense of equality, if not superiority, then more power to her, Felicity decided happily.

Is that what Clarissa Dupre did?

Curiously, the subdued Miss Dupre did not seem the coquette-ish type. Felicity didn't know whether to hate her for it or not. Probably did not matter. She felt she'd hate Miss Dupre no matter what!

As William and Polly ran into the back yard, Felicity went out to meet her sister and Lucien at the shell path, as the Merrimans still did not have a gate.

"Hello, Nan. Bonjour, Lucien." She could manage only a small smile with such tension in her system.

"Bonjour, Madamoiselle Feeleecity!" Lucien exlaimed warmly, removing his crisp white uniform's black tricorn and bowing low. _"Comment allez-vous?"_

"Fine, thank you. Will you be joining us for dinner?"

Lucien's light brown eyes sparkled. "_Non_! I cannot, for our captain gave us orders to muster thees eevening. May'aps tomorrow." He patted Nan's hand affectionately.

Nan and her sister exchanged a warm smile, and Nan said, "Lucien has introduced me to quite a few of his friends, Lissie, and they all seem most eager to meet you!"

"Oui!" agreed Lucien happily. "Zey say any seester of Nanette's is bound to be a beauty as well, so zey are most eager to meet wiz' you!"

"That is very sweet of the both of you," Felicity replied as the three of them began walking to the front door. "But I am not very good company right now, I'm afraid. My mind is rather occupied by...certain stresses." She glanced up at her and Nan's bedchamber windows again.

Nan, who knew Felicity very well, raised an inquisitive eyebrow (The Eyebrow of Inquisition, as Felicity liked to call it). "Is it Ben? Has he popped his stitches again?"

"No- he is improving daily and very fast, even though he cannot handle stairs just yet. I'm rather concerned about, well..." How could she put it? _That he will marry the Angel currently upstairs and leave me broken hearted? HA! where on Earth did I leave my dignity this morning, the rubbish box? _"He has a visitor just now-a _female _visitor."

Nan's face immediately turned to disapproval. "He is alone in our bedchamber with a female visitor? Is she kin?"

"No."

"Is she married?"

"No."

"Hmm." Surprisingly, Nan simply shrugged. "Ben is wounded. 'Tis not like he is capable of any impropriety. Do not worry so, Lissie. I'm sure she'll leave directly."

Felicity shook her head absently. "If you got a look at her you would understand why Ben would not _want _her to leave directly. Or _any _male being, for that matter," she added with indiguisable disgust.

Lucien cocked his head curiously. "What ees zis? Is zis veeseetor of your Ben a rival?"

_"NO." _She said it flatly, quickly. "_No one _can compare to this woman."

Nan's chin went up defiantly. "_Merriman _women can."

"Oui!" agreed Lucien, squeezing Nan's arm amorously. "I can vouch for zat!"

Felicity gave them a grim look. "Like I said, if you saw her, you would understand." She led the way into the house, not missing Nan's "Humph!" of disbelief. As Nan invited Lucien inside for a quick refreshment, as he had to be on his way back to camp, Felicity stared up the stairs.

Rose stepped out from the mini-kitchen. "That female visitor of Ben's still here?"

Rose didn't know? Felicity herself was uncertain, to tell the truth. She hadn't been watching the front door every moment, after all. "I don't know, Rose."

"Best you find out then. Yo' mamma wants to know if she will stay for dinner." And Rose gave Felicity that 'Now don't get in a lather' look.

"I suppose I should be a gracious hostess and ask," Felicity muttered through clenched teeth as Rose just shook her head. Again, she clomped upstairs, unable to hide the reluctance and dislike in her heavy footsteps, or the menace in her dark scowl. _I don't suppose the divine Miss Dupre would like to impose quarter on our house while she's here, eating our food, would she? Better yet, why don't we just invite her to stay!  
UGH!_

She didn't hear anything as she got to the top of the stairs, but then she was in such a foul mood of jealousy and rage that it was not easy to hear when her mind was full of nasty things. She came to her bedchamber door and rapped softly. When there was no answer forthcoming, she bit her bottom lip, her nerves a tangle of weeds. What on earth could be going on in there? Was Clarissa Dupre even still in there? Felicity had to know.

She started speaking even before she had the door opne enough to see in. "Ben, are you and-" She opened the door.

And wished to God she hadn't.

They were _kissing_. He had his hands on her shoulders. She had _her _hands on his face. And they were _kissing_. Sitting there on Felicity's own bed. _Kissing_. Felicity gasped sharply. Ben did too, suddenly pulling back from Clarissa with horrified eys that went to Felicity's, which had filled with fast, thick, burning tears. "Lissie, no! Don't-!"

She burst into sobs as she whirled and ran from the room. She ran right down the stairs and out the front door. "Felicity?" Nan called, coming to the parlor doorway from where she had been sitting with Lucien, but Felicity was already gone. The front door was wide open. Nan's head whipped around angrily to glare up the stairs, but no one was there, either.

Blindly Felicity ran, not knowing where she was going and not caring where she would end up. All she knew was that her heart had just been shattered like glass and she had been cut by _every single shard_. All her deepest hopes and wishes had just gone up in flames. But despite her blurring tears, she could now see clearly. Ben wanted Clarissa. The shock of it struck deep. Now she had to get away from him and that woman and let her rage, heartache and shock empty itself out, somewhere, some way.

French soldiers stopped as she flew by, looking startled and concerned, calling out "Mademoiselle!" but she didn't care. She was hurting so bad, growing so cold inside that nothing could phase her. She damned Ben, she damned Clarissa, and most of all she damned herself for being so hopeful, so immature...for once again setting her heart on something too much. How many humiliating, stinging slaps in the face was she going to have to take before she finally quit allowing her heart to be so vulnerable? To think she and Ben could be anything like they were before! How dare she!

After about thirty minutes' worth of running nowhere in particular, she ultimately wound up at Elizabeth Cole's back door. Amidst her gut-wrenching sobs she pounded on the door. Evening was coming on fast but she did _not _want to go home. Not as long as Ben was there. The Cole's young black house servant, Dolly, opened the door, took one look at Felicity standing there sobbing and holding herself, and drew in a surprised breath.

"Why Miss Lissie, what you cryin' fo'? Come in, come in! You got a redcoat after you?"

"_Elizabeth_!" Felicity cried through hot tears as she stumbled in. "I need Elizabeth!"

"Jes' you calm down, an' I'll take you to her. She's with her fella in the parlor." Sweet Dolly put an arm around Felicity's shaking shoulders and led her through the Cole's mini-kitchen, only to be nearly run over by Elizabeth herself, having hurried from the parlor after hearing the crying.

"Dolly! Felicity! Whatever is the matter? I heard cries and-"

"Oh, Elizabeth!" Felicity sobbed, being released by Dolly into Elizabeth's arms. She clung to her friend sorrowfully. "I have lost him!"

"Who, Ben?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, Lissie, is it his wound-?"

"No, no!" Felicity's sobs were muffled by Elizabeth's neck. "He's not dead! I have lost him to that Cla-Cla-Cla-"

"Clarissa-person?"

"YES!" Felicity's heart-wrenching sobs began anew as Elizabeth exchanged a pitiful look with Dolly, who had a hand to her heart. Arthur Pratt appeared in the parlor doorway looking quite startled. Elizabeth turned Felicity toward the parlor and began walking her into it.

"Here, Lissie, let's sit down and you can tell us all that happened."

"Yes, do!" agreed Arthur urgently, and recieved an 'Arthur, really!' look from his bride-to-be.

Elizabeth sat Felicity down on the sofa betwixt herself and Arthur. Both of Felicity's beloved friends put an arm each around her and leaned in close so they could hear what was to be said by the dejected red-head. Through choking sobs she told them everything, from Clarissa Dupre's arrival to finding them in her own bedchamber, kissing. Elizabeth gasped at this and Arthur exclaimed in shock, "Gads! Are you for certain that they were kissing?"

Felicity stared at Arthur with red, puffy, heart-sick eyes. "Well he certainly wasn't trying to dislodge her teeth!" Then she lapsed back into sobs.

Elizabeth shook her head, dumbstruck. "I cannot believe Ben would do such a thing! Why would he be so flirtiatious with you if he had feelings for another-who is by no means nowhere near as fine as you!"

"Oh, Elizabeth, you have not seen this woman," Felicity moaned with a sickened expression. "She looks like heaven on earth! A man could not help himself! If I were a boy, _I'd _want her!"

"Mercy me!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Dear Felicity!" exclaimed Arthur. "The things you say! Do go on..."

"Arthur!" Nan growled, then to Felicity, gently, she said, "My loyalty is first and foremost to you, Lissie. No doubt Ben _has _changed! Well! If he thinks this Clarissa-person is better for him than you are, then he is no friend of mine! You deserve better. Williamsburg is absolutely full to the brim with finer, handsome young soldiers who would cut out their own hearts and give them to you upon silver platters if you asked them to!" Her scowl was fierce. "Oh, that Ben! How could he!"

Felicity sniffed miserably and clutched herself. "'Tis really not his fault."

"What?" her friends blurted.

"Truly," she continued remorsefully. "'Tis my fault for expecting too much even when I told myself not to. For hoping things would be like they were before...that keeping my love for Ben stored away while he was gone was an act of love I would be rewarded for. I was a fool for believing he would still love me..." Sob. "We are not children any more. War changes people. _Time _changes people, and plenty of time has passed to make childhood promises meaningless!" Sob. "Ben has changed. 'Tis time for me to change as well!" With that thought, she grabbed the cord on which the signal whistle hung, angrily whipped it off of her neck and flung it into the farthest corner of the Coles' elegant parlor.

"I hate him!" she cried bitterly. "I knew 'tis mostly my fault, but I hate him for making me think that he-that we-oh, blast it all!" She lapsed back into sobbing wretchedly between her two best friends.

"Look, Lissie," Elizabeth said sympathetically, "Cry out all of your anger and I shall get you some hot tea-that is, if you do not mind _English _tea?"

Felicity shook her red head absently. "No, I don't care. I just don't care any more."

Elizabeth rose quietly, but on her way out gave Arthur a 'Don't just sit there, console her!" look, nodding at Felicity. Arthur, feeling awkward in the presence of a crying woman and not knowing what else to do, put a companionable arm around Felicity's shoulders again and said, "There, there, dear Felicity, it will get better. _You _will get better, you'll see. Here,take my hankie!" From within his inner coat pocket he pulled out one of the white hankerchiefs Elizabeth had mongrammed his initials in with green thread and gave it to Felicity.

"Thank you." Felicity promptly took it and blew her nose into it, sounding like a sad, sick trumpet. Then she dropped her head onto Arthur's nearest shoulder and began her weeping anew. "Oh, I hate him! I hate him, I do!" She lifted her head then and looked at Arthur's timid face with a nasty glare. "You know what I feel like doing, Arthur Pratt?"

"Dear Lord, no."

"I feel like wringing that skinny neck of Clarissa Dupre's!" she told him seethingly. "I feel like screaming my head off at Ben! I feel like wounding his wounded hip, that is what!"

"Bully for you, Felicity!" cheered Arthur encouragingly.

"I have been so _stupid_!" she spat viciously. "I worried and worried that he might be lying dead on a battlefield somewhere, and instead he has been pining away for this _woman_! I wonder just how long he meant to go without telling me! He even told me that his friend Frankie had become attached to her, but I bet it was _he _who was attached all along!" She sat there shaking furiously, feeling lost, sickened, humiliated and full of venom.

Elizabeth returned with a saucer and cup of hot Twinning's English tea and gently put them into Felicity hands...but as soon as she did so, the cup immediately began to rattle, as Felicity's hands were shaking badly. So Arthur took the cup and saucer and sat them down on the coffee table before them before any drastic spillage could occur.

Dolly appeared in the parlor doorway. "Miss Elizabeth, there's a young boy at the back door, says he desperately needs to see Miss Lissie. Name of William. What shall I do?"

"No!" Felicity blurted quickly, before any one else could say a word. She was afire with anger. "I don't _want _to go home! I don't _care _what anybody needs! I need to be away from there." Her tear-ravaged eyes met Elizabeth's pleadingly, and Elizabeth instantly took the initiative to be the stronger one for once.

"Dolly," she said calmly, rising to her feet, "I shall go to our young visitor and handle the matter myself. Will you please prepare a room for my friend here to stay in? I shall be needing her presence here during the preparation of my wedding plans."

"Yes'm!" Dolly exclaimed happily.

"Excellent notion, love!" exclaimed Arthur Pratt.

Elizabeth gave them a sly smile. "Just you stay put, Lissie. _I _will talk to William." And off she went.

"Oh dear," Felicity sniffed in misery. "I hope I am not disturbing Mrs. Cole."

Arthur patted her hand amiably. "Worry you not, dear Lissie. Mother Cole is at my house playing cards with Mama whilst I am here paying a courtly visit to my intended."

There was a quiet, awkward moment, then Felicity muttered, "To think I was going to appologize to Ben for walking in on him while he was naked from his bath."

"You walked in on him in his all-together?" Arthur's mouth dropped open agog. "How did _that _come about?"

"He was just getting out of the bathing tub, and I just walked in with a cup of hot chocolate. I didn't know!" Her forlorn expression turned ferocious again. "But I'm not sorry anymore! 'Twas _my _bedchamber, after all. Mine and Nan's! If he was so able-bodied, why did he not bolt the blasted door?" She blew her nose into Arthur's hankie again. "What do _you _think about all of this, Arthur-You're a man. Is it true that men can do whatever they want with whomever they want and women are just supposed to remain silent and not say boo about it?"

"Well, n-no, of course not..." Arthur looked sympathetic, but actually knew not what to say on the matter, for he had always been taught to treat women with respect and dignity. "I cannot speak on behalf of my entire gender, but there are some men in the world who do not behave in such a manner, dear Lissie. We all of us assumed Ben would ask for your hand in marriage just as soon as he could draw breath!"

"HA!" Felicity retorted wrathfully. "He cannot have her _and _me! He has made his decision, let him live with it! _I _will not be anyone's little fool any more!" She proceeded to toot some more into the hankie.

Elizabeth reappeared, sat down by Felicity's other side and put a hand on her best friend's shoulder. "'Tis resolved. William has gone home."

"Were you strict with him?" Felicity wanted to know.

"Nay. I was as pleasant as cherry pie."

Arthur hee-hee'd good-naturedly. "And there is nothing more pleasant than cherry pie-except to kiss a certain girl who has recently _ate _cherry pie!"

"What was this 'need' of me to be home?" Felicity asked nasally.

"Well, it was Ben-"

"Wait!" Felicity held up the Hand Of Refusal. "I do not want to hear it!" A heartbeat passed. "Oh go on, I'm already angry. 'Twill make no difference."

Elizabeth sighed hesitantly, met Arthur's eyes briefly, then said, "William said that Ben sent him to look for you, and for him to tell you to please come back so he could talk to you."

Felicity's heart turned to stone. "Absolutely not! What is there for him to say? His actions spoke louder than any of his words ever could, not that I would hear them anymore." She lifted her chin defiantly. "And what did you tell my little brother?"

"That I intended to keep you for my own selfish reasons. Which I do." Elizabeth's smile was primly wicked. "I told him to tell your _mother _that _I _need you here for my pre-wedding party plans, that we have much sewing to do, which we do, for my wedding night gown has not even been started-"

"Oooo, what a delight that will be!" Arthur beamed gleefully.

"Oh shush yourself, Arthur. Anyway, Lissie, I said naught about Ben, just that if your _mother _needed you that you would be here." She patted Felicity's arm reassuringly. "And since Ben cannot travel the stairs as yet, he cannot come here to harass you!"

"Don't know why he would," Felicity muttered loathfully. "He's made it perfectly clear his choice. _He _shall be the one to live with it." She picked up the cup of tea at last, and after a few burningly meditative sips she asked, "How come you to have Englisg tea, Beth?"

"Mama has had some hidden away for special occasions. What is more special than a wedding?" Elizabeth smiled brightly.

"This is good," Felicity murmured absently, sipping. Immediately, she heard Ben's voice in her brain saying, "Tea is a sign of tyranny!" _Well! _thought she, _that figures! I'm feeling a bit tyrannical myself just now! _But miserably she said, "I'm sorry I interrupted your evening, both of you. The last thing I wanted to do was to bring a disturbance into this house."

Elizabeth took one of Felicity's hands into her own. "What are friends for if they cannot be there for each other in their time of need?"

"Indeed!" agreed Arthur, patting Felicity's back amicably. "Through thick and thin we go!"

"Through good times and bad!" further agreed Elizabeth.

"Be we drunk or sober!" Arthur agreed further still.

"I love you both," Felicity stated without a hint of hesitation. "And now will you please direct me to the room in which I may flop down?"

_I can't believe I could've been so blind but love is strange  
I thought about it for a long, long time, but the truth remains  
I don't need another lonely night to dry my tears  
The answer's plain in black and white, and I can see the picture very clear  
I've been living on the edge of a broken heart  
I don't wanna fall, I don't wanna crawl  
I been living on the edge of a broken heart  
Don't you wonder why I gotta say goodbye?_

I been doing things your way too long, baby that's over  
It won't be easy but I got to be strong  
And if I wanna cry I don't need your shoulder  
I been living on the edge of a broken heart  
Don't you wonder why I gotta say goodbye?

LInes from 'Edge of a Broken Heart' by Vixen  
CHAPTER FINISHED!

I must dedicate this chapter to my sister "B", for she has given me plenty of inspiration and I love her dearly!


	16. Chapter 12: Hell Hath No Fury

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2, Ch12: Hell Hath No Fury...

Felicity was fast asleep by the time Mrs. Cole got home and Arthur had bid his fiance goodnight. Her sleep was not peaceful, however, for she was plagued with snippets of nightmares: Ben kissing Clarissa, Ben marrying Clarissa, Ben holding the hand of a small child that had brown eyes like his and blond-white hair like Clarissa's. She woke up after the latter and slammed her fist into the pillow so hard that it busted it's seam and some of the downy feathers shot out of it.

In the morning she looked tired. She ate breakfast quietly with Elizabeth and Mrs. Cole, who was so excited over having Mr. Cole and her Annabelle home, with Annabelle's fiance The Major Basil Crumb arriving soon, that she was already in a state of ecstasies, planning what all she would have ready for them to eat when they arrived. She was oblivious to Felicity's plight, which both Felicity and Elizabeth were grateful for, for neither of them were in the mood to hear how Mrs. Cole knew that 'that Ben' wasn't a reliable lad.

Nan came over before noon, making Felicity wary at first, but as soon as the lovely, sensible thirteen year old breezed into the back room where Felicity and Elizabeth were working on the wedding gown, Felicity knew she had an ally in her younger sister.

Nan never had liked Ben that much to begin with.

"Oh, he's after _everyone _to fetch you back," Nan sighed with a great deal of aggravation as she sat her sewing basket down on the table beside the gown, which hung awkwardly for the moment on a wicker dummy. "He even had the audacity to tell _me _to plead with you on _his _behalf! I had to take him his breakfast, you see. He was so agitated that he popped his own stitches. Mother had to come and sew him back up."

"Really?" asked Felicity worriedly, momentarily forgetting her fury-but only for a moment. She sighed and looked angry again. "What did you tell him?"

"That _I _was not going to get involved in whatever rift this is between the two of you." Nan raised her eyebrows and blinked impassively. "And I'm not."

Elizabeth was removing white silk thread from her own sewing box. "What do your parents have to say? Do they know what has happened?"

"Well, not really," Nan replied, actually sounding disappointed in that. "All anyone really knows is that Ben had a woman visitor, Lissie went up to see about her, then went running out of the house in tears." She paused, seeing her older sister's downcast, bitterly melancholy face, then added, "_Father _went up to talk to him last night and came back down saying that it was none of our business, that it was a matter to be resolved between you and Ben."

Felicity frowned hard. "But it _is _resolved. He wants Clarissa. He has proven that."

"Apparently he believes different. Whatever he told Father, Father believes you and Ben alone must solve the matter." Nan shook her head disapprovingly.

"Oh no." Felicity brought a hand to her forehead. "Father isn't going to come over here to talk to me on Ben's behalf, is he, Nan? I can't take that. Not from my own _father_. Not from my own father, I can't." Stressfully she sat down on a tall, three-legged stool and put her hands on her lap.

Nan leaned against the table the girls had their sewing paraphrenalia on. "I don't think he will, Lissie. I actually believe he is going to try to stay out of it and let you and Ben work it out as you both see best."

"Mother, too?"

"Mother is worried about you, but she isn't going to press the matter, either. Father tells her everything, you know, so they seem to be of one mind about this."

Relief flooded Felicity's pixie-face. After a moment of coming to grips with this, she said, "Well, neither one of them need worry. There is nothing I have to say to _Captain _Davidson."

Nan smiled.

"I saw him kissing her, Nan," Felicity told her mournfully.

But Nan didn't seem to be surprised. "I figured 'twas something like that."

Grateful to have such supportive ladies about her, Felicity suggested that they get to some serious sewing. Though their conversations eventually turned to games for the wedding party and even French food, Felicity still felt gloomy and moody, and was unable to hide it. When Arthur came by to collect Elizabeth for a mid-day stroll, he offered an arm to Felicity as well, but Felicity declined politely, insisting that she would be fine here at the Coles' home helping Mrs. Cole and Dolly with the wedding invitations. Then William came by again, persisting on seeing his big sister, who relented, albeit reluctantly, to be seen. After all, it was not William's fault he was brought into this mess.

"Lissie, you've just _got _to come home, you've just _got _to," William pleaded worriedly to her. "Ben is desperate to see you and talk to you. He says he has to explain about what you saw yesterday. What _did _you see yesterday?"

Will didn't know? Felicity was not about to tell him, then. "Never you mind, little brother. You just tell Captain Davidson that what I saw yesterday was explanation enough, and that it was none of my business to begin with. Now run along."

"You sound like Mother," William retorted. "You and I were supposed to go riding this week. Together. Aren't we going riding any more? Does everyone and every thing have to change just because you and Ben are having a disagreement?"

Felicity was a bit taken aback by that and thought about it. Now that the initial shock was over, _why _was she letting Ben drive her out of her own house? That was stupid! Ben's new life was _his _business. _She _needed to get her own life now, and her younger siblings who looked up to her needed her. She put her hands on William's shoulders and said firmly, "Go get Penny and Patriot saddled. We _are _going riding!"

"Excellent!" William shouted, and took off from the Coles' back door.

So Felicity left word with Dolly to tell Elizabeth that she was going riding with William and would see her later. Alone she walked back to her house but did not go inside. She did indeed go riding with her younger brother, and found the outing very refreshing. The early autumn September day was still warm, but not so hot, so Penny was just as eager for action as her mistress was.

"Race us, William!" Felicity cried daringly, pulling her red mane free of its ribbon and mobcap and shaking it loose unabashedly. The two Merriman siblings streaked across the obliging field side by side, their horses feeding off of their riders' energy.

As it happened, Reginald Maxim Forsythe was out for a stroll that afternoon alone, mulling over his plans to "secure his angel", when he bore witness to the brother and sister racing the horses across and around the field. Mesmerized with the sight of Felicity riding astride her copper mare, petticoats pulled up to her knees, hair loose and billowing out behind her like crimson flames, he believed it almost too much beauty to bear to look upon. She was indeed a bold one, defiant and shocking, laughing blissfully with her younger sibling, handling her mare as if she had been born in the saddle. She whirled Penny about, prodding the shiny thoroughbred to rear, to lash out with her forelegs. Her brother pumped his fist in the air energetically. Then the two started their horses back across the field in a competitive blaze.

Oh, that Felicity was beyond being a Venus! She was Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, some kin to a forest-spirit. Staring at the magnificent wild-child in all of her untamed beauty made Forsythe determine to add haste to his plans. He had to have her. He whirled and began striding back to Templeton Manor. The girl should not allow herself to be seen gadding about like that. She was astonishingly unaware of the temptations she could inspire in a man.

Like the ones Reginald himself was plotting to indulge in even as he walked.

The riding did her good, Felicity believed. The exercise got her heart racing, her blood pumping and therefore got herself thawed out mentally. She decided to swallow her heartbreak over Ben Davidson, put the past behind her and think about her future. At William's reminding, she put her hair back in it's ribbon, the mobcap slapped back on, and rearranged her sitting position upon Penny to side-saddle to ride back through town to the Merrimans' barn to get their mounts unsaddled.

Nan, who for once did not have a gracious plenty of flirtatious Frenchmen surrounding her, came out of the house, waited until Felicity released Penny into the corrall, then strolled over to her with a cheerful smile.

"Have a good ride, sister?"

"Oh yes," Felicity told her pleasantly, holding the corrall gate open for William to bring Patriot in. "It did me quite well."

As William had yet to come out of the barn with Patriot, Nan stepped close to her sister and asked with winced eyes, "I do hope Penny was able to help you ride Benjamin Davidson out of your head."

Felicity stiffened suspiciously. "She contributed."

"Well that is good, because he is as naggy as a farm-wife! He will not leave William and me alone for-"

Felicity cleared her already cleared throat, for William was coming out of the barn with Patriot. Both sisters were aware that their young brother was partial to Ben becuase of Ben's being a heroic cavalryman of Lee's Legion, but they both still expected a measure of loyalty from him. The less said of Ben in front of him the better, but that would be impossible with Ben appealing to everyone to get Felicity to listen to him. Poor William did not understand the complexities of emotions that accompanied grown-ups, and Felicity barely understood them herself. They therefore had to give him _some _leniency.

"Will you be staying for supper, Lissie?" Will asked innocently, as Patriot ambled past them into the corral.

"Um...no, Will, not this evening. I _will _be back tomorrow, I promise. I will stay with Elizabeth another night." She tried to give him her best positive smile.

Nan was quick to say, "But you do not have to hurry if you are needed by Elizabeth." She raised an eyebrow, looking at Felicity in such a way that suggested that any amount of time spent away from Ben Davidson would be for the best.

"But what about Ben?" William pressed, looking forlorn. "Don't you want to mend your disagreement with him? He's distressed!"

Nan rolled her eyes. "He is a _man_, William, he will satisfy his 'distresses' some other way."

"But he needs Lissie!"

"Then he will simply have to _need _right on, for Felicity has things to do!"

Felicity quickly interviened verbally. The last thing she wanted was her distancing herself from Ben to cause arguments in her family. "Oh, both of you do calm down. Will, I will be home tomorrow. Nan, come and fetch me in the morning. 'Tis unnecessary to make such a fuss over any of this. William, Ben can tend to himself and his needs, he has proven that. Time," she stated with a lift of her chin, "will take care of any 'disagreements.'"

William was about to protest once more on Ben's behalf, when the three of them heard banging, such as the rapping of one's knuckles upon glass. Looking up at the house, they saw a lone figure in one of Felicity and Nan's bedchamber windows, indeed rapping his knuckles upon the glazed-barred glass and gesturing _come hither! _frantically. Felicity quickly looked away, glaring angrily. Nan glared right up at Ben. William chewed upon his lower lip and looked sympathetic of the young cavalry captain he admired so much.  
"See, Lissie? He needs you!"

Felicity's fists balled at her sides, her teeth clenched, and tears threatened to spill. "And because I am a subserviant woman, and therefore a fool, I am supposed to go right up to him and listen to him make excuses which mean nothing about a situation that is of no concern to me." She said it low, so that only Nan could hear her. "Nay. I think not."

Nan seemed to be finding satisfaction and pride in her sister's spurning of the former apprentice. She put a consoling hand on Felicity's shoulder. "Go to Elizabeth, Lissie. I shall see you in the morning."

"Indeed." Without another word, Felicity turned and made for the road. This act only made the figure in the window bang more crazily. Had Felicity looked back she would have seen him working like mad to get the window up so that he could holler after her. But she did not. He was having a difficult time of it, due to having scrambled so hard to get to the window in the first place. His recently re-stitched hip wound throbbed like the very devil was jabbing at it with an unholy finger, making any kind of movement nearly unbearable. He was forced to stop crabbing at the window latches to clasp at his side.  
"But Lissie!" William called impatiently after her. "I thought you loved Ben!"

Without turning back she said sadly, "So did I."

-The next morning, Felicity had just finished breakfast with Elizabeth and Mrs. Cole when Nan arrived. Elizabeth strolled outside with the two Merriman sisters. "You know you can stay with me as long as you like, Lissie," Elizabeth reminded her best friend encouragingly. "I do so enjoy having you here!"

"And I will keep it in mind, Beth," Felicity replied, with assurance. "But I am not going to let Ben run me out of my own home. I do have my own wedding gift for you and Arthur to prepare." She smiled a little.

Elizabeth looked worried. "But I don't see how you can avoid a confrontation with Ben at all."

"Leave that to _me_," said Nan, with nothing short of a confidant, cunning smile upon her face.

Felicity sighed. "Years ago, I bawled Ben out about running away. I told him 'twas no good running towards something if you're running away from something else. I seem to be going against my own grain!"

"Nonsense!" Elizabeth's reaction matched the look on Nan's face. "You have not run away from anything! First of all, you reacted in shock, that is all. Second of all, you ran toward _my _house, which is perfectly acceptable under the circumstances and the exact place you should run to when you're in need! And third of all, no one can say you ran away from any one or anything if I took it upon myself to keep you for my own selfish reasons!"

"You are indeed correct, Elizabeth," agreed Nan immediately. "And your reasons are extremely matrimonial."

"Oh indeed, Nan," further agreed Elizabeth.

They were trying to cheer her up, God love them, but as pain and sorrow threatened to rear its ugly head, she could only force herself to understand that Ben was lost to her forever and that only time would ease the ache in her heart. She forced a smile. "If I do not see you later, Beth, I will definately see you tomorrow. We have yet to begin on the gown's petticoats, and I shant let you down."

"You never have, Lissie," Elizabeth smiled warmly. "Good day, ladies!"

"Good day, Elizabeth!" Nan hooked her arm around Felicity's nearest, and the two sisters began walking towards home. The morning was warm but not too uncomfortable, and one could just smell autumn coming right around the corner. The sky was a beautiful, clear blue. They passed a couple of Continental soldiers who doffed their hats to them as they strolled by and paused to admire them as they walked on.

After a minute, Felicity said, "I don't think I want to be left alone with Ben. I could handle it, of course, but I do not desire it." She glanced at Nan. "Does that make me a coward?"

Nan huffed indignantly. "Absolutely not! There is a difference between cowardice and not having the stomach-or the heart, as in your case-to confront one's source of stress. Ben has hurt you grievously, and in so doing, has hurt me as well. I have no desire to give ear to his jibberish, either. You shant be left alone with him if I can help it."

"Thanky."

Nan smiled with a tilt of her head. "At least that pale woman will not be back."

"Oh?" Felicity looked at her sister with a mixture of curiosity and nausea. Clarissa Dupre's return had weighed sorrowfuly upon her already stricken heart. "How do you know?"

"Well, she left our house a few minutes after you ran out. Hmph! She seemed upset herself, though I cannot imagine why. She saw me looking cross at her when she came down the stairs and appologized for causing any trouble. She declared that she had to be on her way, wished my family well, and away she went!" Nan shrugged. "She did not say she would return, but something about her very demeanor suggested it."

"I know," Felicity agreed tightly, reluctantly. She was most hesitant to give Clarissa Dupre credit for anything, or even anything close to a complement of any sort. "She seems to wear her emotions upon her face, though she does not blurt them out the way I have a habit of doing. She is every bit the gentlewoman! She is my exact opposite!"

Nan yet again made a sound of immense disagreement and stopped so suddenly that Felicity was abruptly yanked back by her arm linked with her sister's. "Tish-tosh! Oh, I have _so _tired of hearing you say that, Felicity! How you are not a gentlewoman, that you could never be, that you never _will _be and what-all! 'Tis poo! How could you be a daughter of our mother and have had lessons with dear Ms. Manderly and _not _be!"

Taken aback by that, Felicity could only stutter. "Well, I-that is, I-"

"Do not dispute me, big sister! It has dawned on me that although you have your wayward tendencies, you are _still _a gentlewoman! You are merely a different type, that is all."

Despite her heartache, despite everything, Felicity smiled uncontrollably. She had never thought of herself that way. A _different kind _of gentlewoman! She liked the sound of that. "Nan Merriman, if you were any sweeter, you would turn into a cone of sugar!"

Nan blushed intensely and chuckled a little. "Not too sure about that...!" She smiled mysteriously and looked away.

Felicity was instantly hit with the impression that there was something going on with Nan that she wasn't likely to talk about right then, but they were coming up on their house and she was back to being anxious and dreading. She quickly glanced up at her bedchamber windows and was relieved to see that there was no one plastered there. Her stomach felt extremely churnful as she muttered, "I need to change clothes." Why didn't she borrow a dress from Elizabeth? On the other hand, why should she let Ben chase her away from going about her own business in her own house?

"You can change in Polly and William's room. I will go up with you." There was a hint of malice in Nan's blue eyes.

The house was quiet when the two girls entered. "Mother has gone to visit Mrs. Trent, Rose is in the garden, and Will and Polly are either watching the soldiers muster or playing pirate somewheres. Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Do you have plans for today?"

"No." Felicity hesitated a moment. "I really _should _return to Elizabeth's and help her start the work on her petticoats-"

Nan interrupted with a cheefulness that had something malicious underlying it that Felicity was too distracted by being back inside their house to notice: "Oh, you can see Elizabeth tomorrow! You will remain in _my _company until later."

"I will?"

"Of course!" She took her sister's hand and pulled her along as she led the way upstairs. She began a hyper stream of feminine babble that Felicity began to find most strange and disconcerting. "I myself am going to change into one of my lovliest dresses! Not one of the ones for balls, of course, but the pink one with the little purple roses all over it-you know the one, Lissie. I recently changed the stomacher on it to one that better matched the purple roses than the other one, and I simply must-"

"Felicity!"

As she had feared, Ben was after her. He had thrown open the door to her room, having painfully limped from the bed so that he could catch her. He was grimacing in his pain, but his soulful brown eyes were full of desperation. Pleading. Against her will, Felicity's heart began to bang madly, for he was such a handsome sight; long brown hair upon his shoulders, open shirt, that face...and then she thought of Clarissa Dupre, and her emotions went dead cold. He tried to step out into the hall, to block their path, but the pain from his hip wound exteded down his left leg, preventing him from moving the way he wanted to.

"Felicity, please, I have to talk to you!"

"Do go back to bed, Ben Davidson!" Nan snapped irritably. "We must get changed if we are to meet Lucien and Jean-Paul!"

Felicity's startled green eyes flew to Nan's proud, defiant face as the thirteen year old's icy glare challenged Ben wordlessly to just he try and stop them. _Who, _thought Felicity, dumbstruck, _is Jean-Paul?_

_"With all due respect, Nan, I __must _talk to Felicity!" Ben's eyes were glued on Felicity, who refused to look back at him and astared stonily at the floor. "'Tis important! Felicity, please come in here!"

"Oh, honestly!" Nan protested resentfully. "We do not have time for your dilly-dally, Ben Davidson! There are _quite _a few eligible French soldiers already awaiting our arrival on the Palace Green, and we must not keep them waiting! Which reminds me-!" She whirled about to Felicity and clasped both of her bewildered sister's hands in excitement. "Lissie, you simply _must _wear your blue and white dress! Jean-Paul will not even be able to draw a breath when he sees you in blue, you know!"

"No!" Ben said, desperately trying to get Felicity to look at him, which she refused to. "You can't go, Lissie, you just can't! Stay and talk to me, _please_!" His head ultimately whipped around to Nan. "Who is Jean-Paul?" he demanded.

That was just the sort of reaction that Nan Merriman was hoping for. Her smirk was pure venom, absolute superior smart-ass. "Just you never mind that, _Captain _Davidson, 'tis none of your concern! Why don't you just return to bed and continue your-heh!-'recuperative efforts'? Come along, Lissie!" Nan tugged on her sister's hands as she made for Polly and William's room.

But as she was hauled past Ben and the doorway in which he stood, he reached out, took ahold of her nearest arm above the elbow. She gasped lightly, paused, felt the desperation in his grip, felt the lightning-quick excitement in being touched. His strength, his warmth. As she paused she glanced not at him, but in his direction. Her mouth opened...

Nan stepped back, yanked Felicity's arm out of Ben's grip and said urgently to her sister, "Let us hurry! We must not keep the fellows waiting!"

Without a word or a direct look, Felicity passed Ben, giving in to her younger sister's directions. Ben sighed heavily in frustration, listening to Nan babble on about the handsome Lucien LaCroix and the charming Jean-Paul, and indeed a spark of jealousy was ignited inside him. He knew Felicity believed him to want Clarissa Dupre, so therefore she had given up on him...given up on _them _even before anything had happened between them. It hurt, and it hurt deeply. If she would just stop and _listen _to him!  
And even then, just to believe him!

In Polly and William's room, Nan hummed smugly and pleasantly as she withdrew Felicity's blue-over-white dress from the trunk she had brought in from thier room. She laid it on Polly's bed then turned to Felicity. "All right, then! Turn about and I'll unlace you."

Dazed, numb, uncertain, Felicity did as Nan instructed. After a moment she asked, "Nan, who is Jean-Paul?"

"I have nary a clue," replied Nan absently as she worked on her sister's laces, humming again.

"Nan...what just happened out there, with Ben?"

"Oh, _that_!" Nan giggled impishly. "_That _was me ensuring that you are not left alone with him. Clever, was it not?"

"I suppose..." Felicity was still in a state of shock. Her emotions were whirling, touching upon everything from anger, disappointment, thrill and surprise to sadness, anxiety and suspicion. "But Nan, did you not just lie to him?"

"Nay." She sounded most certain of it.

"But what about this 'Jean-Paul,' whom you do not know?"

Nan shrugged indifferently. "'Twas not a lie for certain, Lissie, for I am sure that Lucien knows plenty of fellows named 'Jean-Paul'. In fact, I would wager that if you walked into the College, where the wounded French soldiers are being hospitaled, and called out the name _Jean-Paul! _there would be at least seven fellows to sit up and ask _'Oui?'_" She couldn't help but giggle at her own logic. "And _one _of them out of that seven is just bound to favor the color blue!"

Felicity smiled a bit. When did her Nan become so witty and sly? Despite having lived in closeness with the girl for all of her thirteen years of life, there were things about her that were just beginning to surface, things that were taking the older sister quite by surprise. "So...we really _are _going to see Lucien and his friends?"

"Indeed!" Done with her sister's lacings, she turned herself about, and naturally Felicity began to untie hers.

"I wish Ben would not keep trying to talk to me," Felicity said tiredly. "Why would he care what _I _think, anyway?"

"Why should you care what _he _thinks?" Nan vollied back. "'Tis for the best, Lissie, that you just leave him to his own devices and try to get him out of your mind."

"My mind, Nan, is up to the task," Felicity assured her. "'Tis getting him out of my heart that is the challenge."

"Then what you need is some handsome French officer to steal your heart away from that Ben! To sway you with his exotic love-talk and lavish you with expensive gifts from France! You will be plenty distracted when Lucien's friends swarm about you!" She laughed rambunctiously.

As the girls changed into their prettier dresses, Felicity could not help but feel worse and worse. She wasn't at all wishing to be wooed by some officer, French or otherwise. As a matter of fact, she hated the notion of romance altogether! She was learning all too fast that intimate matters of the heart were nothing but trouble. As a child, she had loved Ben Davidson. While he was away she had loved him. Seeing him again after five years she wanted to see what her pent-up love for him would become with him, and now she had seen. It had been a waste. A wretched, horrible waste.  
Maybe a charming French soldier _would _be fun to flirt with after all. If Nan could play the part of the coquette so well, why couldn't she?

-Ben was standing at one of the bedchamber windows, watching the girls leave the yard. Felicity looked magnificently ravishing in her blue and white dress, her luxurious red hair done up under her lacy mobcap, with a curled tendril left to fall in front of each ear. The sight of her made his heart race and his loins ache with need. And she was _convinced _that he did not want her. Somehow, some way, he had to get through to her. She had to know the truth about Clarissa Dupre before he lost Felicity to some Frenchie named Jean-Paul!

CHAPTER 12 FINISHED!

**Author's Babble**: Clever readers that I have, you no doubt noticed the nifty spacing between paragraphs! Thanks to valued reader **Rose**, it was brought to my attention that the lack of spacing between paragraphs might be too much to take for some readers. That would not have occurred to me without **Rose's **help, so just as soon as I have time, I will go back and 'repair' spacing between paragraphs in every chapter to make reading easier! I think those are double-spaces I put, But I want to hear from you: how do y'all like your spacings, one line or two?


	17. Chapter 13: The First REAL Kiss

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2, Ch.13: The REAL First Kiss

'Twas nearly dinner-time when Ben heard soft, feminine laughter and male voices out front, and he struggled to stand up from the chair he'd been sitting in by the window to look. Nan and Felicity were indeed returning, complete with French soldiers at their sides; Nan with Lucien LaCroix, and Felicity, as he had feared, arm-in-arm with a tall young man in the sharp-looking white uniform of the French. He had black hair and an eager expression.  
Ben hated him at once.

It burned him to see the soldier stop with Felicity on the shell path, take her hands in both of his and kiss the back of each one while gazing adoringly into her eyes. And Felicity in turn smiled sweetly with a cock of her head. The soldier touched her cheek with a white golved finger, leaned forward and _kissed _that cheek! Ben flicnched violently, for instinct told him to get down there and give the soldier a fist for his supper! A hand fisted at his side. In his physical condition it would be impossible. Before now, Ben Davidson had had no argument with the French. He had admired them, appreciated them.  
Now he despised them.

Felicity bid adieu to her amourous suitor, accepted the arm that Lucien LaCroix offered her, and both Merriman sistes were escorted into the house. Ben heard them come in, chatting softly but lively. He heard Mrs. Merriman's voice, and then there was more laughter. Polly and William had just come in from out back, but were then told to go back out and wash their hands at the well. Mr. Merriman ought to be home any time now-what would _he _have to say about a French soldier being so bold with his daughter like that? Ben Davidson would have been determined to inform on the Frenchman if he was not already determined to get Felicity alone some how. Jealous and fuming, he turned away from the window, trying to think of something.

Felicity had to admit she'd had a pleasant day after all. Through Nan and Lucien she'd met dozens of likeable, attractive young French soldiers of various ranks, most of them unmarried, but some that were and could not help but flirt with her anyway. As Nan had predicted, offers of courtship sprung up immediately, and there was even one desperate plea of marriage! 'Twas all in good fun, of course. Felicity maintained she would not have a suitor until the war was over, but what she really meant was not until she was healed of her shattered heart. God only knew how much longer _that _would be!

When she had entered the house, Mrs. Merriman had looked at her with worried eyes, but had said nothing about the rift between her and Ben, which Felicity was immediately grateful for, because she was in no mood to discuss it. Nan and Lucien took to the parlor. Felicity wanted to get out of her blue and white 'party' dress and into one more comfortable to help Rose with dinner, and Mrs. Merriman stated only to be quiet about it, for she believed Ben to be asleep. Felicity was grateful for that, too.

So she went upstairs assuming Ben was asleep and therefore she would not be accosted by him. But she was, of course, wrong. She no sooner got to her bedchamber door, than it flew open, with Ben frantically grabbing her arm and pulling her inside before she had even had time to gasp properly. He swiftly closed the door, backed her up against it with a hand over her mouth, as she had been just a nose-hair away from screaming.

"We've got to talk, Felicity! NOW! You cannot keep avoiding me."

She was outraged, of course. She slapped his hand away from her mouth. "_Avoiding you_? _That's _what you think? How _dare _you! That's what you may have convinced yourself to satisfy your own vanity, but it just so happens that as soon as this God-forsaken war is over with, I have a very dear friend who is to be married, and _I _am helping her get ready for it!" Her emerald eyes were flashing hot indignation. A pink flush had come to her cheeks and her chest rose and fell quickly. It was all Ben could do to keep from crushing her to him.

And she was not wearing his signal whistle any more. Ouch.

"All right, fine," Ben stated forcefully, flinching at the pain in his wound. "You're helping Elizabeth with her wedding plans! But we are going to have this out right now!"

"Have _what _out?" she demanded angrily. She already knew 'what', but in her rage and heartbreak she was set to admit to nothing!

"You _know _what, Lissie! What you saw the other day when Clarissa Dupre was here!" He stepped back from her, holding his wounded hip.

Just hearing him say that name made her want to be sick. Whatever on earth could he have to say that would make his kissing Clarissa _not _the obvious meaning Felicity understood? He was obviously hell-bent on saying whatever it was he had to say, so she might as well let him have at it, but she did _not _have to believe it. She folded her arms tightly over her chest and glared at him. "_That_," she said vehemently, "was none of my business!"

"Well I'm _making _it your business!"

They stared at each other. Felicity began to believe that this was not going to end quickly with her being so wound up, so she sighed and went slack against the door. Shaking her head, she gave him a pained, wearied expression and said, "There is no point in that, Ben. Your life is your own. What you do and whom you do it with is really nobody's business but your own. We have our own lives now that we are grown. I will appologize for not having announced my presence before entering the room more clearly-_'twas _rather rude of me, but perhaps you would not be risking such interruptions if you chose a more discreet location other than _my _bedchamber in which to court Miss Dupre."

"That's just it, Lissie!" He gestured wide with open hands. "I'm _not _courting Clarissa Dupre! I'm not in love with her! I never _have _been! That's what I've been trying to get to tell you! What you saw was not a fact!" His brown eyes were a mix of pleading and the physical pain he was in.

Felicity studied him a moment, frowning hard. What, exactly, was he wanting? Suddenly, she really _was _tired, tired of this entire business. She shrugged carelessly. "'Tis none of my business. Like I said." She made to open the door and exit the room, but Ben stepped forward, reaching past her with the flat of his hand to reshut the door again. He took hold of her nearest wrist and she stared back at him irritably.

"You are not leaving this room until we have come to an understanding, you and I!"

She snatched her wrist away and snapped, "Whatever for? You need not explain your actions to me any more than I need explain mine to you! You are not obliged to me or owe me any explanation whatsoever! You owe me nothing!"

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," Ben said, shaking _his _head. He gripped her shoulders firmly, forcing her to stay put. "I don't want you thinking I'm attached to Clarissa in _any _way. And I _do _think we are obliged to each other!"

As he expected, her mouth flew open to protest in sheer resentment, but he was quick to say, "Listen to me, Felicity. Just listen to me!" Glaring moodily, she shut her mouth. He had not wanted this, not for anything in the world. He had just wanted to leave Clarissa Dupre in the past and move forward with Felicity, but Clarissa's unexpected arrival had brought his wants to a screeching halt. Felicity was now here in front of him, not believing a word he said, and now he had to make the most of whatever time he had alone with her to make her see the truth.

He inhaled deeply and spilled it: "While Frankie and I were ill, the Dupre family took very good care of us and we became somewhat close to all of them. _All _of them. As I've told you, Frankie Darnell did come to be smitten with Clarissa, but she, unfortunately-" Here he inhaled again, stressfully "-was smitten with _me_. Now, I admit to you that I _did _enjoy her company and attention, as did Frankie, who was with me all the time I was there-never were he and I separated, not even for a moment. We were soldiers, Lissie-we would have enjoyed the company of any girl. And will be honest with you, Lissie. I _did _wonder if I might become attached to her, but I did _not_! I _could _not, because every time I looked into my heart, you were there! Every time!"

Tears were threatening to spill out of those emerald eyes of hers, and her angry struggle to control them was evident on her pixie-face. 'Twas a battle she was slowly losing. "D-Don't you d-dare," she struggled in an emotion-thick, wrathful voice, "blame _me _for being any manner of barrier between you and that woman!"

"I'm _not_!" Ben told her through gritted teeth. His hip felt like it was on fire. "I am saying my attachment is to _you_! I don't _want _Clarissa Dupre, I don't want _any _other girl! I only want _you_!"

Oh blast! This was almost too much to bear. "Then you are a fool, Ben Davidson," she spat viciously.

"WHAT?"

"Have you even _looked _at that woman?" She had begun to tremble in her heartbroken rage. "My God, she is an angel! She is soft and sweet and an absolute gentlewoman! No man in his sanity could turn her away. Is she not what every man in the world could want?"

Ben stared her intensely in the eyes. "_NO_. Not _this _man!"

She rolled her eys, bit her lip in her struggling efforts to keep her composure. "What am _I _compared to the likes of her, Ben? I'm just me-wild, loud, improper and unable to sew a straight stitch!"

Again he gestured freely. "And I _love _that about you, Lissie! I always have! Because you are different! Because you're brave and unpredictable and you won't let a society dominated by unfair rules stop you!"

"Ben, we do not even know each other any more..."

"Like hell we don't!" he retaliated. He thought he heard someone out in the hall, so he began to speak fast again. "Look, Felicity, I _must _finish! I had told Clarissa about you while I was recuperating. I _thought _she understood that my heart belonged to a very special red-headed girl back in Wiliamsburg, but as it was, she must have said something to her father about me, because he took me aside from Frankie just as we were leaving the Dupre farm and told me that Clarissa loved me. He said I had his blessing to marry her and fully expected me to return for her when the war was over. I tried and tried to tell him, make him see that I did not love his daughter in return, nor did I wish to marry her, but Mr. Dupre just carried on like he had gone silly in his head.

"Well, Frankie had heard everything between me and Mr. Dupre. It made him so utterly angry, because _he _was in love with Clarissa and wanted to marry her. He accused me of stealing her from him, of betraying our friendship, and _asked _to be transferred to another horse troop, lest he become any angrier and kill me. Needless to say, we did not part well, and truly, I did not know what became of him after that. I had not seen Clarissa since Frankie and I left the Dupre farm. When she showed up here the other day I was mortified! I thought her father had come with her to try and make me marry her-which he could not if he had, of course, but I did not want that aggravation.

"She was, or still _is_, here to find her older brother, who's serving with Lafayette. _Both _her parents and her younger brother have come to Williamsburg to be reunited with him for the time being. She rememberred that I had come from Williamsburg, so she asked around about me, found out where I was, and came to see me. Just before you came in and saw us, Lissie, I had just explained to her that I could not love her the way she wanted. She aked me if she could kiss me goodbye, one last attempt to see if I could feel anything for her at all even though I had warned her that all I did feel for her was friendship and gratitude for her family's kindness. So I allowed her to kiss me, and you came in and saw."

Exhausted, he dropped his hands from her shoulders and heaved a tired breath, watching her intensely for her reactions. She was just staring...but at least she didn't look enraged anymore. More like she'd gone numb, but maybe, Ben mentally prayed, she was believing him.

Felicity finally swallowed the lump of crazed emotion in her throat. To Ben's surprise, she turned her back on him and moved slowly over to a window. She was thinking it over, he could tell, so he held his breath. Indeed, she was! He glanced at the bedroom door, fearful that someone was about to walk in. 'Twas only a matter of time.

He couldn't stand it. If the threat of interruption wasn't tormenting him, her silence was. He'd learned long ago that it was never good when she went quiet. "Lissie...please, say something!"

At length, she asked, "So did you?"

"Did I 'what'?"

"Feel anything. When you let her kiss you so she could know." She turned around and gazed at him with apprehensive eyes.

His reply was firm and immediate. "No." He took a painful step toward her. "And I told her so. I told her the only girl I had my heart set upon was the beautiful red-head that just ran out of the room. I told her I wish I had not let her kiss me. 'Twas foolish, Lissie. But she _did _leave the house convinced at last that I did not love her. And I do not."

"Ben," she began carefully, suspiciously, "do you not wish to court other girls? Do you not want to have options? You are just fresh out of the Legion-why make decisions before you've had a chance to explore your options?"

"Because," replied he right away, "my father once told me that when a man knows what he wants, he will be consumed by it until he has it. That's how I felt about becoming a soldier. That's how I feel about _you_, Lissie! I've thought about you all of the time while I was gone. For five years, Felicity Merriman! The thought of you has sustained me when nothing or no one else could! I was determined to return to you. The moment I woke and found myself in this room, the moment I saw you walk through that door, I began to be consumed. And now that I'm back, I fully intend to-"

The bedchamber door flew open and Nan strode in, looking quite incensed. "What on earth is going on in here? Felicity, are you all right?"

"Of course she's all right!" Ben answered crossly, irritable at being interrupted. But he had been expecting it. "All we were doing was talking!"

Nan ignored him. She took Felicity's arm and began hauling her out of the room. "We have dinner to prepare, Lissie. I need your help. Lucien is staying for dinner."

As she was pulled past him, Ben took hold of Felicity's other arm and said, "Come back, Lissie, soon as you can. We're not finished."

"Of course you are!" Nan told him promptly. "_Rose _will bring you your dinner. Felicity is needed elsewhere."

Ben said nothing, but met Felicity's reluctant stare back at him as she was pulled out of the room, and then he felt his breath leave his lungs. He had done his best. Now it was up to Felicity. It was all too obvious that Nan did not like him-part of him understood that; she was Felicity's sister and therefore loyal to the core on all accounts. But the other part of him demanded that he have his say and not be judged so unfairly without everyone knowing all the facts! Ultimately, though, Felicity's opinion was the only one that mattered. And he had told her the God's truth.  
_Now, please God, let her believe it!_

She was quiet all through dinner, absorbed in every word Ben had said to her. As Lucien chattered on relentlessly with William, Nan, and Polly, Mr. and Mrs. Merriman glanced at Felicity, then at each other. The both of them knew she was in deep, serious thought, and though they both wanted to help her, they had to resist and wait. Matters of the heart were such delicate things, especially where first love was concerned. Felicity stared hard at her apple pie and thought of Ben's eyes. the pleading in his voice. The hope on his face.  
She wanted to believe him.

"You want to believe him, don't you," said Nan, not asking but suggesting, as they dressed for bed in their parents' bedchamber that night.

"Aye," Felicity replied miserably.

"Well, that is entirely up to you. But 'tis said of men that if one disappoints you a first time, he will devestate you twice. Ben Davidson is as untrustworthy as a hound near a henhouse. Do you really wish to risk your heart again?"

"I don't know, Nan. I just need to think."

Nan sighed heavily, knowing that when her sister set her heart upon something there was no convincing her to see differently. There was no point in even trying to argue. The best support she could give Felicity was patience. Of the two of them, Nan was blessed with patience. She envied Felicity's blessings of bravery and daring, but felt that, for certain, risk-taking would lead the older sister into irreversable trouble.

_Sleepless child, there is so little time Your eyes say yes, but you don't say yes  
I wish that you were mine  
You say it will be harder in the morning  
I wait for you to say, just go  
Your hands held mine so few hours  
And I'm not a child anymore  
I'm not a child anymore  
I'm tall enough to reach for the stars  
I'm old enough to love you from afar  
To trusting...yes?  
But then women ususally are  
-_lines from 'Beautiful Child' by Stevie Nicks

Mulling over Ben's words helped her get to sleep, but she did not sleep for long. To believe or not to believe was the question that had her staring uo at a black ceiling from her spot on the floor beside the bed Polly and Nan slept in. It had to be around midnight. She'd been awake plenty of times in the night to know what midnight felt like, and she was too troubled to go back to sleep.  
So she donned slippers and dressing gown and crept downstairs to the mini-kitchen. She found the tinder box without problem and lit the candle on the prep table. She sat at the table for a few minutes, staring at the candle flame, pondering the past, present and future. How sweet and simple things were five years ago! Ben had held her hand and kissed her so warmly. Five years ago he had not been changed by time, war, military life...or Clarissa Dupre.

He was pleading innocence where Miss Dupre was concerned. Said he let her kiss him to see if he felt anything for her at all. Said he did not. Could that really be true? Felicity had tried very hard to get the image of them kissing out of her head, but to no avail. But now that she thought some more about it, the kissing did not seem to have been passionate...

___Oh, stop it, Felicity! _her mental voice raged_. __Do not cave so easily! Do not be so quick to be vulnerable again! Perhaps Nan is right after all-I am risking my heart for a second time. Oh, what to do?_

As if on cue, she became aware of something in the left pocket of her robe. Frowning, she reached into it and withdrew...one of Ben's letters! Yes. She'd been reading it for the hundredth time by candlelight days and days ago and forgot about it. 'Twas from December of '79, the one where he had wrote 'My heart longs for you and your smile, your voice.'

She frowned harder. The Patriot ladies that she sewed with at Mrs. Trent's house were always warning against the slyness of men; "They'll say anything to get into your heart, then break it!" "Not all men are wanting, but all men are wanton!" "The best fellow for marriage will want you no matter how many times you have turned him down!" ARGH! Advice, advice! The ladies were all either married, engaged, or widowed. They spoke of men as being the worst kind of trouble that ever existed, but yet they encouraged her to get a husband as soon as she could. The whole business was unbearable!

She was so deep into her brooding that she did not hear the dull shuffling of unbalanced steps stop in the doorway of the mini-kitchen.

"Felicity?"

She gasped softly, looked around and saw Ben standing there, grasping either side of the doorframe in an effort to remain upright. His serious brown eyes were even darker in the soft, low candlelight, staring at her with such fervor that it startled her. He was a heart-stopping, handsome sight, even injured as he was, with that long brown hair upon his shoulders, open shirt hanging out over his breeches. Being a soldier had definately given him a man's impressive body, all right, but his eyes, those soulful, earnest brown eyes, were just the same as they had ever been. Direct. Always with a passion behind them.  
And what, pray, was the passion this time?

"Ben!" she exclaimed softly, "What on earth are you doing downstairs? You'll pop out every stitch you've got and bleed all over creation-"

"Do you love him?" Ben asked, his gaze steady upon her; searing, unblinking.

"I beg your pardon?" Felicity gaped, stunned even further.

"Do you love him?" he repeated tensely.

"Who?"

"The Frenchman. Do you love him?"

Felicity's mind reeled. Who did Ben think-oh. The soldier-friend of Lucien's who had escorted her home this afternoon and behaved so amorously towards her. So, Ben had seen him, eh? She made an exasperated sound with her throat. "No-not that it is any of your business! Now why are you down-"

"It _is _my business," he interrupted again, limping forward as best he could. Felicity gulped nervously, for he was, without a doubt, coming to her. She was so distracted by his appearance and his serious mood that she made herself jump when she accidentally let the letter fall from her hand. Ben came up to the table, glanced at the parchmentand murmured "That's one of my letters."

"Oh! Yes-yes it is, I-" She swallowed, feeling flustered and showing it. She sighed. "Now and then I reread them whenever I feel...Oh, blast, it doesn't matter anymore..."

"It does." He grasped her firmly by the shoulders and hauled her up off the bench as she gasped incredulously. And as he did so, he thrust her to him, took her pixie-face into his two tensed hands, and planted his parted lips over hers. Hard. His tongue pushed into her sweet, stupified mouth, making a wide, rough and aggressive sweep over her tongue and back. This action stunned her senseless, making her legs go weak, making her feel absolutely nothing else but what was happening with her mouth, which was forced open even wider by the relentless manipulation of Ben's demanding tongue. She was not aware of her own hands braced against his chest, or even his hands cupping her jaws. She had gone bonelessly weak, feeling only the shocking movements of his tongue pressing against the top of her mouth, filling hers as she quivered and shook in his grasp.

After another rough sweep of her yeilding mouth, he withdrew panting. Had he not removed his hands from her face to whip his well-toned arms around her, she would have gone straight down to the floor like an insensible jelly. She gaped at him with wide green eyes, reeling in sensations she had no names for, feeling utterly bizarre, wild tinglings and flushes of heat in places she had no idea were capable of such feelings. She trembled uncontrollably as he gazed at her with lazy, emotion-glazed eyes.

"I am not in love with Clarissa," he panted, sounding firm and urgent. "I do not want Clarissa. And I will prove it." Thus, with splayed hands upon her upper and lower back, he crushed her unresisting form to his, not only forcing her hands to move up his chest to his muscled shoulders (to which she held on shakingly), but forced her mouth open wider as once more his persistent tongue plunged into it with rough, gulping sweeps. This kind of intrusion was all so new and strange and so shockingly intimate that she did not possess the wits to respond. She helplessly held on as he did as he pleased, stroking her mouth with that hard tongue of his. A whimper escaped from her throat. This time, when his mouth unsealed from hers he moved to her ear, breathing as if he'd been running hard, and murmured, "Good God, how i have wanted to kiss you like that for so long! I've waited a lifetime to do that!"

He held her so tightly she could fell his heart banging against her chest. His body was so hard, so warm, muscled...like a masculine wall. So strong and...and intense! He was tense, almost like a spring all coiled up tight, dangerously close to popping. It was frightening and thrilling all at once. Her feelings, emotional and physical, were such an overwhelmed, shock-stricken jumble that she could only cling to him, feel her senses being invaded with him, his musky, masculine scent, his well-familiar but huskied voice, his warm breath.

He had melted her like butter on a hot biscuit. She struggled to find her voice, and was surprised to find it sounding thick and trembling. "Ben...my God, I believe you, all right?"

"Sleep with me, Lissie," he murmured into her ear. The feel of his breath on the hyper-sensitive area of her ear and neck sent erotic shudders all up and down her spine so that she involuntarily whimpered again. he held her so hard against him that he had to be feeling her heart the way she was feeling his. 'Twould be impossible to get a hair between them. His words stunned her just as much as the kissing did.

"Wha-what do you mean?"

She felt his warm lips moving against her ear lobe. "_Sleep _with me. I need you, Lissie, desperately."

He was shaking too. From wanting, need or whatever it was, it made her jerk back and stare at him, without thinking bringing her gentle hands up to hold his face. "Ben, what is the matter? Are you feverish?"

"No. I want you beside me. I need you beside me. Just sleep with me." He released his tensed embrace, took her by the hand, leaned over the candle and blew it out, wincing at his wound, he began limping out with Felicity in awe-stuck tow. From one shock to another. She didn't know whether to be frightened or excited. Actually, she was both.

As they came to the stairs in the dark, Felicity gulped and whispred hesitantly, "Shall I get my floor bedding?"

"No!" he replied firmly, turning to her. "No more of that. 'Tis your bed to begin with, and you will sleep in it. My girl will not sleep on the damned floor ever again!"

Felicity didn't know whether to be tickled senseless or astonished to death. There was no time to decide, however, for as soon as he put a foot on a step he gasped and grimaced in pain. Felicity took an arm of his and draped it around her shoulders. "One step at a time," she commanded in a whisper. "Honestly, Ben what ever possessed you to risk coming down the stairs? Why did you risk reopening your stitches by taking to the stairs so soon?"

"Because I wanted to be with you," he answered right away, though his voice was tinged with the aggravation of his wound. "'Tis worth any risk."

"How did you know I was even up?"

"I just knew." He struggled not to make his steps loud and heavy. "I know you, Lissie. Even after five years. No one knows you better than I."

She felt hot all over at that, same as if he'd kissed her again. Never, ever in her life had she felt such a thing! Such sensations! Even as she helped him to the top of the stairs she was still trembling from the shock of those kisses. And now he wanted her to sleep with him? In the same bed? Across the hall from her _parents_?

Whoosh! She was thrilled to death, needless to say. Afraid, though, for neither she nor Ben were children any more-those kisses proved that even if nothing else did! He, a cavalry captain, she, a young woman at the ripe age of marriage. Not children any longer. There could never be anything innocent between them again.

He had ahold of her hand again, leading her to her room, closing the door behind them, but not locking it. She met his dark eyes with hers, questioning, and began uncertainly, "Ben, I don't know..."

"It's all right, Lissie. It's just me. You know me. I just...I just need you beside me. Keep the nightmares away."

She was instantly softened, touched by his words. "You have been having nightmares?"

"Aye." He led her over io the bed. "About killing, being killed, things I've seen, things I wish I hadn't seen... I told you that you were the only thing that got me through it all."

Cautiously, Felicity slipped under the sheets, not even removing her dressing gown, and felt intensely awkward and nervous. _Aye_, _'tis only Ben_, she told herself. _He is not a scoundrel_..._But he is not seventeen_-_year_-_old Ben_-_the_-_apprentice_, _either! He is a grown man! A soldier_!

___But you are not Felicity the Wild Child anymore, yourself! Nay, you are Felicity The Untamed Maid!_

She had to work to keeping from laughing at that one.

Ben sat down beside her, carefully turning himself about while trying to get the sheets over his legs, as Felicity just ast there watching him, wondering what was going to happen next. How was she-they, for that matter-supposed to lay? What was she supposed to do with her arms, or he with his? She was nervous about the sudden intense quiet, so she said in a whisper, "You realize, do you not, that this is called bundling?"

"Call it what you wish," replied he, trying to settle onto his right side (because he certainly could not lay upon his left), "but I would call it 'one friend helping another friend go to sleep because the friend has nightmares and has missed the first friend terribly'."

She raised an eyebrow. "that is a rather lengthy title." then she crinkled her mouth, thinking. "Seems that we have had this converstaion before."

"We have." He sat up beside her, close, so that his arm pressed against hers. "The night before I joined Lee's camp. We slept in the barn all night together."

"You remember that?" exclaimed she, in a surprised whisper.

"Of course! I thought about it all the time." His breath was warm upon her shoulder. "I could never forget."

Felicity smiled bashfully. "Nor I, Ben."

There was an awkward pause, then Ben asked, "You do believe me, Lissie, don't you? About Clarissa?"

She sighed, feeling the last vestiges of her anger, jealousy and sadness slowly dissolve. Her voice was softer. "I do." But there was something he could sense in her voice, something being held back, and Felicity must have sensed that he was aware of it, for she began, "Ben... it really wasn't any of my business."

"I disagree." His voice was soft, too. "We have always been connected, you and I. Even before I knew it. I always felt this pull towards you, Lissie, and I know you felt it too."

"Aye," she agreed in a gentle whisper.

"When you saw me with Clarissa, I knew you were angry. Maybe, even, I believe, jealous...?"

She stiffened immediately. "Ben, do not assume-"

_"But listen to me, Lissie!" he interrupted hastily, "that meant you had feelings for me-that you still do, I pray, and all the more reason I was determined to get to talk to you and tell you the truth! And __I _was jealous of that Frenchie who escorted you home today! I wanted to run down there and do him great harm!"

"You did?" Her frown eased up some.

"'Course I did!" He drew up his knee and put his arms around it, leaned against her a bit. "I'm jealous of any man who looks at you." He felt her slacked beside him, the tension draining once more from her frame. "Funny," he stated with a half-smile there in the dark, "before I went into the service, all I could think about was becoming a soldier. Once I became one, all I could think about was getting home to you."

Felicity smiled sentimentally. "Truly, Ben?"

"Aye." He breathed deep. "You were such a beautiful child, Lissie, you know? Now look at you! I can't believe what a beautiful woman you've become. I was so afraid that I would come home and find that you were married or engaged. You are not either, and it just feels too good to be true!"

"Well, it's not," said she, trying to refrain from giggling. "Here we are, both of us. Alive and unattached."

He grinned at that, reached over and found her hand with one of his. Then he grew serious. "Lissie, you have to know that I meant no disrespect to you, downstairs...grabbing you and kissing you like that. But I just...I had to..." He struggled, inhaling sharply. "I couldn't fight it any longer, and you were just so...you are so..." He groaned, sighed-What is the word? How can I say it? - "Beautiful," he breathed out at last.

She reddened immediately, grinning broadly, feeling that grand old flip-floppy sensation in her guts once again.

"I deserve to be slapped so hard that my eyes stick fast," he went on, feeling harshly judgemental of himself.

Felicity nodded. "I suppose a proper gentlewoman would have slapped the taste right out of you," she observed thoughtfully, with a sly smile. "But good thing for you that I am not a proper gentlewoman, so I will not slap you."

"You are gentlwoman enough for me, Felicity Merriman."

"Oh?" She held up a hand playfully. "Then would you prefer that I administer some righteous sound slapping, Captain Davidson?"

He laughed, quickly took her hand down, back into his. "No, no! I really have no desire to be slapped-even if I deserve it!"

She gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. "Mind you, had any other fellow tried to kiss me i would have floored him immediately. And it was you who taught me how to hit, so I would have had no trouble in doing so."

Ben laughed gently. Then he said, "I cannot say that I am sorry, though. I had to kiss you. I needed to. You don't know how much I've missed you."

"Funny," observed Felicity yet again, sweetly, "the first boy who ever kissed me became the first man to ever kiss me."

She did not need to see him clearly, there in the mostly darkened room, to know that he was grinning and blushing. They were both feeling like shy children again. When he spoke, he sounded a bit bashful, more like the Ben she used to know. "I, um, hope I didn't...I mean, I hope it wasn't...that I didn't make you dislike kissing."

"No," she told him with a soft sigh. "It was...strange, at first, I must admit. And I was shocked-I still am, hee hee, but it was...it was, actually, nice."

" 'Nice'?" He had not expected such a flattering reaction!

He squeezed her hand as he grinned and marvelled at her. "But did you-do you-mind?"

"That depends." Her whole body stiffened in suspicion. "Did you kiss Clarissa Dupre the way you kissed me?"

"NO! Absolutely not! There was only one kiss, and 'twas she who asked for it!" He brought a hand up to caress her cheek. Her soft skin thrilled him to the core. It was immensely arousing to think that she was soft like this all over her body.

"NO!"

"Very well, then. I did not mind." She relaxed yet again, smiling sweetly.

"Let's lay down now, Lissie. Let's go to sleep." He saw that she began looking around about her, clearly not knowing how or where she was to put herself, so he leaned back first, gently pulling her with him. "Lie back...with your back to me. I'll put my arms around you like this-" And he did so. "Oh, wait..." He pulled the nightcap off of her head.

"What did you do that for?" She wasn't angry at that gesture, but she was curious.

_Just like always_, Ben mused with a grin. "Because I missed your pretty red-head, that is why." He tossed the nightcap the Lord only knew where as Felicity slowly laid back, with her back to his hard chest as he told her. She moved her long red tresses aside and under her neck so that he would not chocke to death on it over the course of the night, and immediately one of his hands touched a stray strand gingerly.

The butterflies were flapping like mad in her stomach at his slightest touch. His muscled arms moved about her gently and easily, holding her back to him. She felt his warm breath on her hair near the top of her head. Boldly, she rested her arms on top of his. Oh, this was cozy and snug indeed! Exciting, daring. _Wild_, thought Felicity delightfully.

Ben yawned as he moved a hand to pull the sheets up to their waists, then slipped his arm back around her. He gave her a small affectionate squeeze and she grinned. This felt so right, so perfect. She had her Ben back! Love was blooming once more between them, and this time, there would be no barriers to expressing their feelings.

Or would there be?


	18. Chapter 14: Needs and Wants

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE Pt.2, Ch. 14:

_Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game  
Haunted by the notion, somewhere there's a love in flames  
Turning and returning to some secret place inside  
Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say,  
Take my breath away  
My love, take my breath away  
_-lines from "Take My Breath Away" by Berlin (who sings it best)

She had no idea what she was doing to him. Holding her like this, either one of them too excited to sleep, was so damned arousing that it was restricting blood flow to his brain and making his breeches feel ten sizes too small. Felicity Merriman was a bold one, aye, someone he once told everything to, but now she was a _woman. _A young lady. It was frustrating as hell not to tell her how much he desired her, how his very skin burned and itched to claim _her _skin, to touch her intimately and explore the legendary pleasures known only by the joining of man and woman.

"I-I missed you terribly, Ben," she whispered ever so softly. even the sound of her voice filled him with indescribeable want. "I kept imagining what things would be like when you returned...We're not children anymore, things will not be the same...but they will be new, and...and..."

"Better than before," he finished for her, agreeingly. "Do you ever have the feeling, Lissie, that some things were meant to be?"

"Oh I do, I do indeed!'

"Well," he began, the fingers of one of his hands stroking back and forth absently upon one of her hands, "I have this feeling that I was meant to come back to you, _for _you. What do you think?"

She did think about it. "I had always hoped so..."

"But what do you think _now_?"

"I think you were. I think somehow, in the depths of my heart I wanted to wait for you. So I did. Lord, Mother and Nan would not approve of me spilling my heart out like this to a man, even you! After all, ladies are supposed to not even show acceptance of a fellow until-" She wanted to say "until later on in their courtship", but she and Ben were not courting. Lying in bed together, but not courting. He was still recuperating, after all. So she finished with "Well, they are not supposed to be eager for a boy's affections and be demanding of him. Mother says a lady must show restraint and hesitation, even when she knows what her fellow's intentions are."

"But why?" Ben murmured into her hair. "When both lady and gentleman could be happy together without wasting time."

Felicity sighed. "It's about courtship, you know. Making sure they are right for each other."

There was a pause, a hesitation, and Ben asked "Do you think we are right for each other?"

She knew he was going to ask that. She swallowed, feeling uncertain, feeling that her heart and body wanted to scream "YES!" but her mind was afraid that _he _would think they were not. Taunting thoughts of Clarissa Dupre were back into the darkest places of her head. "Oh, Ben," she said finally, "I want to say _yes_, I really do, but we're just getting to know each other all over again! For you to be home now after five years and decide that 'tis _I _that you want, without even exploring your options, well, it just seems too good to be true!"

"I know," he agreed with a sigh, thinking how much _she _was the only option he wanted to explore, "but it is what it is. I want you, Felicity Merriman, with all my heart, mind, soul, and yes, body. Of that I am most certain! And I will tell you right here and now that my intentions are to win you."

She snuggled back against him happily, excited to hear such words form a boy, now a man, that she loved so very much. Her heart was racing like mad. "Ah, Ben, you have won my heart, you always have had it," she told him insistently. "I guess it's just my mind that needs to be convinced."

"Then I shall convince it," Ben stated determinedly. The movement of his lips in her hair sent powerful tingles dancing all over her skin.

"Ben?" she asked softly.

"Yes, my beauty?"

She grinned blissfully there in the dark. "Things are not _too _different between us, are they?"

"No, not _too _different."

She could tell he was grinning, too. She didn't need to see his face to know the sound of his voice when he was grinning. So she aked, "Do _you _think we are right for each other?"

"Aye, Lissie, I do."

"Yes," she sighed dreamily in agreement, sounding also satisfied and content. "It just _feels _right. _This _feels right." And she held tight to his strong arms, reveled in the warmth of his body and the masculine hardness of it. "Just like it did five years ago, when we slept out in the barn together."

_Only then I wanted to return to you, Felicity, _Ben thought, smiling down at her precious red head. _Now I want to ravish you. Oh holy God, Lissie, if you only knew! You'd hate me for the things I'm thinking... for the things I'm wanting to do to you...I'm even hating myself at the moment. Sort of._

"It was then that I felt the best and the worst I had ever felt," she continued, her voice forcing his erotic wanderings to still once more.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I felt so happy to be with you, to sleep beside you and feel so safe. And I was so sad that I might never see you again, or hug you and hear your voice. To lay like this with you as a grown-up. After you left, I even prayed that I would hear you call me a bit-of-a-girl again!"

His gentle, familiar chuckle made her feel squishy-mushy inside. "Well you certainly are not a bit-of-a-girl anymore, Felicity Merriman! I now think you hardly ever were at all." _Definately not now, _he thought, trying desperately hard to ignore the tremors of arousal that gripped him so relentlessly. _Not with that enticing figure. That sweet, scrumptious mouth. Those perfect, snow-white brea-_

"Ben?"

He cleared his throat, shifted his body a little more _away _from hers, lest she find out just how eager he was for her. "Yes, pretty Lissie?"

"Are you mad at me for walking in on you when you were in your bath?"

"Of course not!" came his instant reply. Damned if his ferocious arousal was not screaming anew for a release! "Don't you even think it. Sometimes those things just happen 'Tis not a bad thing, really. 'Tis not like you truly saw anything..." Which was a lie, of course. She'd had plenty of time to see everything just short of his naked bum. A few seconds could be compared to several minutes in a situation like that!

She yawned and closed her eyes. The awkwardness and reeling sensations of being kissed by, and now going to sleep by, this familiar and yet new grown-up Ben was finally giving way to drowziness and comfort. His presence was an excitement, but yet a comfort unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Perhaps he was, at last, _her _Ben once more.

"Ben?" she asked again, sleepily.

"Yes, my beauty?" He was grinning again, she could tell.

"I just want you to know that I did _indeed _see _everything_." And with that affirmation she drifted of to sleep, leaving Captain Benjamin Davidson, formerly of Lee's Legion, wide awake and burning with an erection, he felt most certain, the size of Williamsburg.

-"Wake up, Ben. Open your eyes for me."

"Hmmm?" He inhaled slowly and blinked his eyes fully open. It couldn't be time to get up yet, for the room was still dark. Felicity was not beside him any longer. Nay, she was not. She was sitting up beside him on his other side, on the edge of the bed. She smiled playfully.

"What are you doing up?" he asked as he yawned, sensing something was a-foot.

"You needed me."

"What do you mea-?" He was silenced by her fingertips upon his lips. The slightest touch from the vivacious red-head could still his brain and inflame his arousal all at the same time.

"Sshhhh," she commanded ever so softly. "I know what it is you want."

He gulped. His brown eyes were mesmerized by her fiery green ones. Those very same green jewels he had admired once in an energetic, childishly beautiful face gazed steadily at him from the face of a wildly beautiful grown young woman. A wavy lock of that red hair he loved so much fell aside one of those emerald eyes, perfecting her seductive look.

She leaned over him, her rosy pink lips just mere inches from his. "You want what _all _men want."

Without thinking, his arms had already moved about her, tensing to bring her down further still. "I cannot deny it," he breathed, "nor will I try to. What I want, I want only with _you_." His head jerked up, a reaction that brought his parted lips smashing into hers, but she was prepared for it this time. She reacted in kind, allowing him to bring her down upon him fiercely and kiss her so hungrily that she was sure to be bruised purple. Ben Davidson damned the consequences and rolled her beneath him to begin his mad frenzy to take her...  
...but then he woke up.

Felicity had risen up on one elbow, had a hand laying on his hot face, and was staring at him with such excessive concern that he instantly felt pangs of guilt that he had been having such a dream about her just now. "Ben?" she asked, obviously worried, "are you all right? I think you were having a nightmare."

"Lissie," he breathed, blinking awake rapidly. The room was a dark grey, indicating that dawn was not far off. "What...did I...did we...?"

"You were moaning and groaning, and you nearly smothered me when you rolled over. Are you in pain again?"

"N-No," he stammered, trying to get a grip on reality and slam back down the mighty swell of arousal that he had woken with that damn near had him leaping off the bed-or onto Felicity, either of which would most likely scare her to death. "Well, sort of. N-Nothing _too _unbearable...I think. I'm fine now. Yes. I'm fine now." He smiled feebily, sighed, ran a hand through his loose brown hair, and made sure that his bed covers were pulled up around his waist, for God only knew how Felicity would react if she saw the evidence of his desire about to poke a hole in his painfully tight breeches.

Then again, she just might howl with laughter.

It did not make his sexually frustrated situation any better when she brazenly snuggled up to him, hugging him tight and laying her gloriously red head upon his shoulder. _So innocent still, _Ben marvelled, forcing himself to behave like a gentleman, even though all of his manly instincts were aching for attention. _Yet so alluring in that seductive way...She knows not what she does, she's unawre of the effect she has on a man! I cannot bear this, to have her so close and not act-but yet, if she were to be in another room, out of my reach, I could not bear that either!_

"Ben, you're trembling," Felicity whispered, just below his clenched jaw. "What is the matter? Are you cold?"

He was just the opposite. He answer was a husky, "No. I'm fine."

"Was it a bad nightmare?"

"I'd rather not say. I just want to lay here with you and be calm." As if. There was no way he could go back to sleep now, what with that agonizing brick in his pants.

"Very well, then." She laid her head back down on his shoulder, her hand upon his chest, where his nightshirt was open, revealing the slash-wound that had begun to be a pink, raised scar. They lay in silence several minutes, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Ben's hand absently stroked her silky soft hair as Felicity's fingers idly touched the cut that was proof of his barely surviving the war.  
After a while, Ben asked, "Does it bother you?"

"Does 'what' bother me?" Obviously _she _wasn't sleepy anymore, either.

"My injury. The scar."

Felicity ran her fingers over the length of it. "Only in that some damnable redcoat tried to take your life in this manner. That bothers me very much."

Ben smiled and murmured sentimentally, "My sweet girl..."

The soaring sensations of love and happiness were once more spiraling through her like shooting stars. Thank God he had not perished in the war like so many other young men had. She also silently praised the Lord that Ben had not preferred Clarissa Dupre over herself: otherwise she would have had to hate him forever, and hate was such a nasty emotion to cling on to! "Tell me," she whispered, "did you kill the villain who cut you?"

"Aye," he replied assuringly.

"Good." Her voice was firm and satisfied. "Far better him than you."

Only Felicity Merriman would reply in such ways, and he loved her even more for it. He had missed her tenacity, her bravery, her spirit. She was still someone he could talk to, but he had to be careful of his actions lest he overwhelm her with his intense longings. He desperately wanted to know if she felt any longings for him in return. Love was one thing, but _lust_, he had so quickly learned, was quite another. Sooner or later, the question of what he would be doing about his future would require an answer, but his head and senses were so full of Felicity that he could not think of anything beyond his maddening need to have her.

As he stared at her small hand upon his chest, he realized that for the very first time in his life he knew what desire was. What it was to want, and to want so badly that he could not even breathe normally. As a boy, his longing to be a soldier came first before anything else-he knew precious little about what it meant to desire anything else. His love for Felicity was pure and sweet and without anything to compare it to. It had been exciting and new, with a sense of sheer delight. He'd been proud to call the pretty pixie-princess his girl. 'Twas the love of children, the love of a girl and an adolescent boy-a boy who would go on to know the hardships, the horrors and stark realities of war. The boy quickly became a man, but not until he had returned to the girl did he know what adult desire was. What it could do to a man. The girl was a rose in full bloom, of marrying age, and as desireable as is water to a man when he is dying of thirst.

She was neither married nor engaged. She had waited for _him_. Childhood love had grown along with the girl.

"Ben?" she asked, peircing his thoughts with her softened voice.

"Yes, my beauty?"

"How would you like some hot cinnamon-bread for your breakfast?" Her head had come up again, and she was smiling pleasantly.

"Of course I would," Ben smiled back. "But you need not get up and make bread just for me."

"Oh I know that," she said impishly. She tapped his chin with a finger. "But I _want _to. There is a difference, see, between wanting to and needing to, Captain Davidson."

His smile turned somewhat devious. "I beg to differ, Miss Merriman. I think wants and needs are very much the same."

She sat up some more and eyed him suspiciously with a fat grin on her face. "Why am I getting the impression that you are _not _speaking of bread."

"Because I am not."

She laughed a little, studied his face, his strong-set jaw, the tiny bit of stubble that meant a shave would soon be in order. She was very well aware that they were brazenly flirting, but what surprised her was how easy and comfortable they were with it. It just happened naturally, and it was fun. With the same finger she had tapped his chin with, she drew it along his jaw. "I am not used to seeing you with the makings of a beard, like Father gets sometimes."

Ben spiraled a strand of her hair around two of _his _fingers. "Any more than I am used to seeing you with a bodily figure that men would kill to touch." And his voice was softly serious.

Felicity felt a wild hot rush of flattery, excitement, and that which she had dubbed 'love-tingles' all mixed together. She was not used to such words of direct sensuality. Sure, there had been boys and men who had approached her in the store or when she would be out walking in the streets with Nan or Elizabeth, and they spoke of being charmed by her eyes, charmed by her beauty, or enticed by the scarlett of her hair. Their words of flattery had meant nothing to her, she had waved away their words of amorous, courtly intent as though they had been mere fruit flies. But words like those coming from _Ben_-handsome, manly, _grown-up _Ben-were making her feel warm and swept away on some mighty wave of infatuation that was just about to reduce her to blushes and giggles.

"Be-en," she chided, sitting up and sparing him a playfully suspicious look. "There is more to me than just a figure, you know."

"Undoubtably," he agreed, sitting up along with her. "There are also your eyes, of course, and your luscious lips, your hair like autumn fire-"

"Ben Davidson!" she snickered wickedly.

"I could go on endlessly," he murmured into her hair just behind her closest ear. His voice had gone husky again. "I want you, Lissie."

She was quiet a moment, her eyes having fluttered shut from inwardly swooning at his lips upon the hyper-sensitive skin behind her ear. She wanted him to brush his kissable lips all over her skin, wherever he saw fit to put them. With a hard swallow, she managed to retain her senses and said, "You have said that quite a few times since you've returned, Ben..."

"And I have meant it every time," he told her immediately.

"But..." She looked at him through half-open, emotion-glazed eyes. "What _exactly _do you mean... by that?"

"I think you know _exactly _what I mean, Lissie." And just how much knowledge _did _she have of intimate matters? Surely she understood what went on between a man and a woman when they...or when a man courted a woman in hopes of...or what a married couple did on their wedding night to consumate their vows?

_Wedding night_!

What Benjamin Davidson wanted more than life itself could not possibly be attained outside of marriage. It _should not_. His dearest, most cherished friend in the world deserved better than that.  
But God, how he wanted her!

Felicity contemplated his statement. "You mean _carnally_. I'm not stupid, Ben."

"I know that, too. Yes, I want you the way a man wants a woman, with all that the word _carnal _implies. I want you wickedly. I will not deny it, nor will I try to, nor will I speak of it any other way but the way I feel. I will not lie to you, Lissie." His breath released submissively. "And nor will I goad you into carnal actions, or badger you with-" Here he gritted his teeth, which were also feeling frustrated "-_affections_."

Her hand shot out quickly, clamping upon his closest arm. "But I rather _like _the affections, Ben."

His heart soared. "You-you do?"

"Aye!" she replied, her voice breathy, full of revelation. "That kiss-what words have I to describe what it did to me? 'Twas an honest, true kiss! Not only my first _real _kiss, but the truth of _you_. 'Twas that kiss that convinced me that what you said about Clarissa Dupre was true." _But I will always worry, Benjamin Davidson._

"And you are not afraid of...how I feel about you?"

"Nay! I only fear this being a dream, of my heart about to burst from my feelings for you. A woman can want too, you know. 'Tis only that society deems it inappropriate for a woman to express her desires."

"Not with me, it isn't. Lissie...my Lissie." He leaned his face in close to hers and kissed her firmly and deeply. Their tongues collided, stroked, tangled. Felicity's hands came up to clasp his face, touch his hair. It was only when they needed air did their eager mouths part, and Felicity stilled Ben's fervent form by putting her hands upon his shoulders and gently holding him at bay.

"I have to get up, I have breakfast to make!"

Ben groaned reluctantly, protestingly. "Don't, Lissie-stay here and lay with me a bit longer."

But she was already crawling to the foot of the bed. "I would love to, but I cannot. I _want _you to taste how good my baking is!"

"If it is anything like those sweet lips..." He grinned sloppily at her as she stood and smoothed out her shift and robe. She cast him a mischevious grin back. Ben decided that she could make him mud pies and they would still be just as sweet because they would be made by her own precious hands. "And since you cannot stay up here with me, I shall simply go downstairs to _you_!"

"Ben, you must not risk popping your stitches! Again!" Her face turned worried. "How are you going to heal if you do not stay in bed?"

"I see it the other way," he told her, moving to the edge of the bed in order to get up. "How am I to get better if I stay here _in _bed? I'm sick of being prone. A man of the Legion does not lay about idle whilest the world goes by! There are things to do!"

"Like what?" Felicity demanded to know, fists on hips.

Ben grinned again at her, with flirtatious amusement. "Like watching you roll dough, watching you _beat _the dough, watching you do anything..."

"That is your plan for the day? Watching me?" Her smile went crocked as she watched him slowly and carefully rise to his feet.

"Aye. I've gone nearly five whole years without so much as a glimpse of you, and I will not deny my eyes the pleasure of reacquainting themselves with you. Bake your bread if you must, but do not go off where I cannot see you." His voice went a bit softer. "I could not bear it, Lissie."

She watched him limp to the chair upon which lay the heap that was his clothes, watched him sort through them. His words continually kept her awestruck. His desire for her nearly took her breath away. This fully-grown Ben simply had her _dazed _with emotions. And clearly, her being grown-up had him awestruck through and through as well.

But was he _in _love with her?

The Patriot Ladies at Mrs. Trent's house spoke of men and their listful wants, their single-mindedness when engaged in the bed-sport, and love often being the last thing on a man's list of necessities. They spoke of some men who married just so they could bed the woman they were lusting after, then leaving her. Surely Ben was not like that! Surely five years of military living had not stolen away his moral senses! _And he has not been back long enough to KNOW if he loves me or not. He has just found me desirable, hee hee! The door swingeth both ways, Felicity Merriman. You find his face and his body very much to your OWN liking. But do you love him?_

_Yes, I do! I do love Ben, with all of my heart! Otherwise the thought of him with that Clarissa-person would not have devastated me so!_

_But are you ready for marriage?_

_Um..._

Felicity inhaled sharply as she watched Ben pick up a clean linen shirt. "I'll go on down, give you your privacy."

"There's really no need to." He grinned over at her. In the greying light of approaching dawn, his face was so irresistably handsome, Felicity had to swallow the urge to fling herself at him. Bat-flutters began in her stomach. "You have seen me fresh out of the bath-I have nothing to hide from you."

Though his words delighted her, and though she was sore tempted to stay and watch him change clothes, she just cocked her head and gave him her best patient smile. "Ben, I may not be a perfect gentlewoman, but I do have _some _sense of propriety. I cannot be my mother's daughter and have had lessons with Ms. Manderly and _not _have anything to show for it, you know. Their efforts with me have not been _entirely _in vain. I shall see you downstairs. Do be careful."

He just grinned at her as she left, laughing to himself when he heard her soft giggles out in the hall. Everyone else should be getting up any time now, so it was perhaps for the best that Felicity slipped out now, before anyone discovered that they had been sleeping in the same bed together.

Not that they had done anything wrong.

As he changed clothes, Ben smiled to himself, thinking of the times when he'd taught Felicity how to do things, like whistling, running like a boy, and fishing with a pole. Things that were believed to be very inappropriate for girls and young ladies to do. His smile broadened when he remembered what delight she showed when she successfully learned whatever it was he had taught her, be it the whistling, the fishing, or the running. Catching frogs. Swearing. He recalled the satisfying swell of pride he felt in watching the faerie-faced red-head learn the tricks he wanted to show her, not only because she had been eager to learn whatever it was he wanted to teach her, but because in teaching her things that young ladies were _not _supposed to do, he was helping her defy standards and rules that he felt quite sure were set by England. In short, he had helped her become a Patriot.

He loved her spirit, her fire, her determination. He loved everything about the girl. And he believed he was _in _love with her as well.

That had to be what he was feeling, right?

_She'll read your mind, she's smart as a whip  
She'll suck you dry, but look at how much I drip  
At the point of ecstacy, I write a symphony of poetry in motion  
And leavin' me there to die  
I tell myself, let no one take her place  
To confide in someone, and look at how much I paid  
I want you next to me, call it telepathy  
We drifted into vision, and look at how much we see  
Ah...ah..  
I just wanna get closer than close to you  
I know that one way or the other any test of my faith will do  
I give my heart for you to break, I give my final breath  
When nothing lasts forever, see, we can turn eternity into...  
I just wanna get closer than close to you_

-Lines from (appropriately-named) 'Closer Than Close' by the BeeGees. One of the most sexiest songs EVER. If you have not heard it before, go download it now. Go on. The story aint goin' anywhere.


	19. Chapter 15:All That It Implies

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2, CH.15: All That It Implies

_I've learned to feel what I cannot see  
__But with you, I lose that vision.  
I don't know how to dream your dream  
So I'm all caught up in superstition  
I want to reach out and pull you to me  
Who says I should let a wild one go free  
Trying to catch your heart is like trying to catch a star  
But I can't love you this much baby, and love you from this far  
Waiting for a star to fall  
And carry your heart into my arms, that's where you belong In my arms baby, yeah...  
_-Lines from 'Waiting For A Star to Fall' by Boy Meets Girl

They stmbled into the dining room, kissing fiercely and grabbing at each other as if their hands were rabid. Fortunately, the dining room was deviod of people, but that wasn't likely to last much longer. The thought of being caught, however, was lost to both girl and boy as Ben backed Felicity up to the dining table's edge while keeping his mouth sealed over hers. Dishes rattled, the candleabras wobbled dangerously, and a couple of eating utensils were jolted off the table, but the young lovers paid them no heed.

"Yes, Ben, yes!" Felicity hissed in an urgent whisper at his ear as he moved to a side of her neck to scrape her delicate flesh with a bite that would definately leave its mark for days to come. Ah, her soft, lavender-scented skin was driving him mad with turbulent, carnal hunger! He wanted to devour her, consume her, feel her energy in _his _blood. She was everything he'd ever wanted, and he wanted insanely.

"Hurry, Ben!" she whimpered, clawing through his long brown hair. He obeyed with gusto by clasping her hips and lifting her onto the table's edge. She buried her face in his shoulder as he reached past her, and with a mighty swipe of his arm, sent plates, bowls and other utensils clattering to the floor. Then he kissed Felicity intensely as he came forward and she went backwards, down onto the table. He made a hard, ravenous trail of nipping kisses down to the low-cut bodice of her dress and decided then and there that clothing was now his mortal enemy.

"Oh Ben, take me!" she moaned desperately, her fingertips boring into his arms as she held on to him. "I cannot wait any longer!"

"Nor I, my beauty, nor I," he breathed huskily, grabbing handfuls of her skirts to pull up. "After this you will be mine forever, as you were always meant to be..." Her immediate sigh of passionate approval urged him on frantically.

_Why, in the name of all that was holy, did women have to wear so many confounded layers? _

"Ben?" Mrs. Merriman inquired, with a hint of amusement.

"Huh?" Abruptly jolted out of his fantasy, Ben Davidson looked over at Mrs. Merriman with startled eyes and an open mouth-as if he'd been caught doing something naughty, which he _had _been, only mentally and secretly. "Wh-What did you say just now?"

From the other end of the dining table, both Mr. and Mrs. Merriman were gazing at Ben with half-smiles as they ate their breakfast. Said Mr. Merriman, "We were just wondering why you were staring at the table like it was about to catch fire."

Asked Mrs. Merriman, "Don't you find Felicity's baking to your liking?"

Chuckles came from around the table as Ben blushed profusely and felt his face grow heated. He smiled, trying not to seem so guilty, trying even harder not to look at Felicity, lest she be able to tell just by looking at him what he'd been thinking about, but he could not keep his eyes from her.

She smiled at him, and he damn near spilt his seed.

"Ben, are you in pain again?" Felicity asked, her clear, sweet voice tinged with concern.

"Just a bit," he told them all as nonchalantly as he could manage, as one of his hands clenched under the concealment of the table. "Nothing I cannot manage." He forced a smile for emphasis.

"But Felicity can bake as good as Mother," William told him from just across the table. "Don't you think she bakes the best cranberry-bread?"

"Why sure, William!" _I have got to stop this. I have got to clear my head and get my priorities in arrangement. I MUST have Felicity, but I must know that my feelings are more than lust! I owe her that. _He met Felicity's beautiful eyes again, and this time, his smile was genuinely warm and endearing. "It _is _delicious, Lissie, truly. This is the best food I've had since _before _I left!"

Felicity reddened and felt joy-bubbles popping all around her heart. "Thank you, Ben."

"So, Ben," said Mr. Merriman, noticing the lingering looks between his daughter and former apprentice, "now that you've dared to descend the stairs and place yourself back among society, do you know what it is you want to do today?"

Immediately, Felicity opened her mouth to answer that question for him, simultaneously dropping her two-tined fork, but before uttering a word she realized that it was not her question to answer. She shut her mouth and her pleading eyes snapped to Ben. He looked from Mr. and Mrs. Merriman to Felicity, and 'twas as if there was an instant, silent communicated agreement that they very much wanted to spend the day together, in each other's presence. It was what Ben desperately wanted and what Felicity obviously wanted as well, for she looked ready to practically _scream _it.

Ben swallowed carefully and began, "Well, sir, if you do not require me at the store today..."

Mr. Merriman, upon whom the exchange of longing looks between girl and boy had not been lost, smiled pleasantly and replied, "As much as I have looked forward to having you back in the store, Ben, I know you must be eager to see old friends, or even visit the soldiers and officers in town. Take a few days, my boy, and get settled among us again! There's no need to jump right back into work when you've just emerged from the sick-bed. Or _injury-bed, _as it was."

Mrs. Merriman had her own concerns. "Ben, you should not put stress on that wound by too much activity. You must be careful for a while yet."

Their affectionate concerns warmed him to the heart. "Thank you, sir, ma'am, I do appreciate it. But I am a fast healer and I think some exercise would be good for me. I never could just be bone-idle, even on a Sunday!" He glanced at Felicity, who's eyes were going from her parents to Ben in anticipation of his plans. "With your permission, sir, I would consider it a tremendous honor to escort Felicity to wherever she is wanting to go today."

Felicity made a restraintive squeak in her throat in her efforts not to whoop in excitement and squirmed in her seat. Nan sighed submissively where she sat between her mother and Polly, looking unapproving but saying nothing.

William was the only one to protest, but not for the same reasons as Nan wanted to: "But Ben! I wanted you to come and see our hide-out! Polly's and mine. We've allowed Felicity and Arthur in, but they've been sworn to secrecy. We wanted to show _you_, too!"

Touched by the boy's enthusiasm and excitement, Ben smiled understandingly. "I would be proud to see your hide-out sometime soon, Will. Honest I would! And I will. It's just that-"

"You want to go everywhere with Felicity because you're smitten," William grinned.

"William Merriman!" his mother exclaimed. "That was rude of you! How many times have I told you not to interrupt an adult when they are talking-and to make such accusations aloud at the table like that!"

Ben quickly came to William's defence. "Please, ma'am, don't be cross with him, he's just excited, that's all." To William: "There will be plenty of time for me to come see your and Polly's hide-out, and anything else you wish for me to see. I will not refuse your invitation."

While Felicity blushed like crazy, William seemed to find this acceptable. "Well, all right, then."

He sounded very much like his father.

"Goodie!" conformed Polly, as she swung her legs under the table.

Mr. Merriman nodded his approval to Ben for the handling of William's outburst. "So, Ben..." he began again, this time with a cautious tone, "am I to understand that you and Felicity have, uh, _resolved _your, ah, _disagreement_?"

Mrs. Merriman looked across the table at Felicity, her expression asking the same question to her daughter.

"Yes, sir!" came Ben's firm, no-doubt-about-it reply, and he met his master's gaze with a steady, positive expression, as Felicity nodded and smiled at her mother enthusiastically.

Mr. Merriman looked thoughtful for a moment, then gave his eldest daughter a smile. "Have you plans to be around and about town today, my girl?"

Felicity could hold herself back no longer. "Oh yes, Father! I wanted Ben to see Elizabeth and Arthur, and he hasn't even seen Penny and Patriot yet, or met Walter's wife Jenny, and-oh!-won't Mr. Haverty simply spin his hat when he sees how much Ben has changed!" And she commenced babbling to her mother about people reacting to Ben's magnificent return.

Mr. Merriman grinned at Ben. "It would seem that you have had your day planned for you!"

"And I don't mind at all!" Ben grinned back, laughing, his heart thudding wildly at the thought of spending the entire day with his Felicity; didn't matter where they went or what she had in mind for them. He was so eager for her company, her laugh, to get his arms around her and squeeze her close so that he could feel her breath on his face and her grown, willowy body tight against his- _Stop! _he shouted mentally at himself. _You are doing it again! How are you supposed to be able to look into your heart if you are always inflamed in your loins? Get a hold of yourself, man!_ That very last thought he kept in mind for a last (and quite literal) resort.

Felicity need not have looked at Nan to see the disapproval and apprehension on the younger girl's face. She did not doubt for one instant that Nan was thinking that Ben could not be trusted. After last night's kiss, after sleeping with him so happily and snug in his arms, after settling the matter of Clarissa Dupre finally (Felicity prayed), she wanted to start anew and begin thinking about the future. The very _notion _of a future that included Ben Davidson in the most intimate way possible sent chills of excitement cascading down her spine and into her knees. He _wanted _her. He'd made that seriously clear. His soulful brown eyes drank her in in a way that they had never done when they were children. Familiar, shy brown eyes in a face that had become a man's face, albeit still so youthful and so recognizable, now gazed at her with grown-up desires and thoughts. Thoughts of the most intimate things ever. And because she was brave, because she dared to say aloud what most people only dared to think, because she was Felicity, he could reveal these thoughts and desires to her. _Was _she afraid? No. Ben would never press her into going against her own moral sensibilities, no matter how much he was obviously fighting it. Despite his good mood this morning, his smile and the twinkle in his beautiful eyes, there was an underlying seriousness he just couldn't hide-he'd _always _had that undercurrent of solemnity about him, but five years ago it had had more to do with his natural shy nature and his determination to be a soldier. Now it was the longings of his own body. It was _her_.

But it was not as if he was alone in his turmoil. Felicity had quickly learned that she loved being touched by Ben. He made her feel weak, quivery and bold all at the same time. He was so...intense. She was finding herself anticipating the next time they would make physical contact; a caress, an embrace, _anything_! After that kiss in the mini-kitchen last night, she felt like she had already committed an act of intimacy, and she'd found it to be indescribably wonderful! If such a kiss could stir up such feelings, then what else was she capable of feeling? What would it feel like for him to kiss her so intensely elsewhere?

After breakfast Felicity walked Ben out to the barn to see the horses. He walked slow and with a limp, but he held to Felicity's arm, and did not groan or grimace or complain even once. The morning was bright and clear, cool but not cold. Both Penny and Patriot turned their heads towards them as they came into the barn. "Good morning, you two!" called Felicity happily to them. "Would you believe that I have your old friend Ben Davidson with me again? He has come home to us at last!"

"Penny's just as beautiful as ever," Ben murmured, limping up to the copper mare's stall door to give her strong neck several affectionate strokes. "You remember me, don't you pretty Penny...aye, sure you do." He scratched her between the ears as she put her nose to his forehead. Indeed it seemed she did, for she took to him just as warmly and with as much familiarity as she had before, as she did with her own mistress.

Felicity smiled at him with pride and admiration. "She could never forget someone who helped save her life, Ben." "Me?" Ben grinned-that ever-familiar shy grin that made her heart flip-flop as it did when she was younger.

"How did I do that?" He rubbed Penny's nose up and down gently.

"Why, you were there when she gave birth to Patriot! You helped keep her calm. You were very attentive to her when those horrible burrs were put under her saddle, rememeber?" She came to his other side, to Patriot's stall door, where the black thoroughbred promptly tried to nip at her long red ponytail. "A lady never forgets a man who's been good to her."

"Oh really?" Ben's smile turned playful as he took a step towards her, placed his hands upon her hips as she leaned back against the stall door flirtatiously. "'Tis my understanding that every man in Williamsburg wishes to be good to _you_, Miss Felicity."

She shrugged indifferently, fingered the buttons on his grey waistcoat absently as he came close. "But I do not remember who these wishful males are! Nor do I care." She eyed him closely as he leaned forward, attempting to catch her lips with his, but she giggled devilishly and ducked, leaving Ben braced against the stall door and face-to-face with rambunctious Patriot, who snatched the former cavalry captain's tricorn in his teeth and tossed his head friskily.

"Hey you...Patriot!" Ben laughed as he reached for his hat, but the young thoroughbred backed up, for he sensed a game to be played here that called for the young human man to try and get his head-piece back. Ben opened the stall door and held to it with one hand while grabbing for his hat with the other. "Well, just look at you, you big trickster! Last time I saw you, you were'nt even big enough for the saddle!"

_Snort! _said Patriot, tossing his sleek black neck. _Come try to get your head-piece back, human! _

Felicity grinned amusedly and explained, "He likes to play with peoples' heads. He's trying to play a game with you. He's so energetic, and smart, like Penny. I would love for you to ride him in a race-you'd win and be the talk of the town!" She came back to Ben's side as Ben got his hat back and popped it on his head. "Think we might go riding together some time, like we used to?"

"Oh, I insist that we do!" He got hold of her arm again to steady himself. "Preferably on _one _horse." And he pulled her to him so that her back was against his chest, so that he could get both arms around her from behind and keep her in his grip. The intoxicating smell of lavender in her hair aroused him immediately, made him close his eyes and breathe deep. She completely relaxed against him. His lips pressed to her temple. "My Lissie..."

She smiled in response, drowzily, as it came from the sedating effect of being held so snugly. This was bliss. This was a young woman in love with her hero and unable to deny either of them the close physical contact they desperately wanted. She heard his voice, husky in her ear, "So let's go see Elizabeth. If we stand here any longer, I will not be able to stop what happens next."

"There you go again, implying intimacy." Felicity sighed with a wry smile. "Talking like I'm in very serious danger!"

"Exactly," Ben told her as they exited the stall. His voice was tinged with a playful warning. He waited until she shut and latched the young thoroughbred's door, then took her by the arm again. "At your age now, you should know when a man wishes to be intimate with you."

If this was meant to warn her further, it didn't. She took it comedically: "Oooo, what brash talk from such a fearsome man of the Legion!"

Ben chuckled. "Ah, Lissie, if you only knew..."

"Knew what?" Her mood was extremely light as they slowly walked in the direction of the Cole house.

Her gave her a sly, sideways look. "After all of those heart-broken suitors you have turned down, you don't know when you are the object of desire?"

"I do not wish to _be _an object of desire! 'Twas like the day I turned sixteen, the fellows just came out of thin air! 'Twas almost frightening!" Her expression was a mix of anxiety and distaste.

"I didn't think _you _were frightened of anything, Felicity Merriman!" Ben grinned.

"Yes, well..." She shrugged. "Everyone is afraid of something."

"And what is it that you are afraid of?" He gave her arm an encouraging squeeze, for he was eager to know himself. She was quiet a moment, so ben knew right away that it was something she was not so eager to discuss. Something that apparently weighed heavily on her mind. It came out as a single word in a reluctant tone: "Marriage."

Ben was slightly taken aback by that, for that was an answer that was more likely to have come out of a man's mouth. He noted her nervous look, the way she bit her bottom lip in anticipation of his reaction to it. But he smiled gently and asked "Why is that, Lissie?" _As if I did not already know... _

"Marriage means change, Ben. It means the loss of what little independence a girl has to call her own, becoming a wife...spending most of the rest of her life with a child in her stomach. Giving birth. Pain, possibly death. No individuality anymore. Please, Ben, do not misunderstand me: I _want _to be a wife, to raise a family of my own, it's just that I feel like I have no choice in my future. I'm _expected _to marry, I'm _expected _to have children, I'm _supposed _to to just take whatever is expected of me and live with it!"

Ben gulped, for he suddenly felt guilty for turning her good-humored mood into frustration. He felt terrible for her, for he knew all that she was saying was true. Before now, he had never truly understood a woman's place in the world. He tried to offer some support: "Your father would never force you to do something against your will, Lissie. He wants you to be happy...and so do I."

She sighed stressfully. "Thank you Ben, I know that-and that I am lucky to have parents who are free-thinkers. Truly lucky. But even Mother and Father have expectations of me, too. It seems like the more I am expected to do something, the less I want to do it!"

"Well, what _do you _expect from life, Felicity Merriman?" He smiled encouragingly. He really did want to know.

"Oh Lord, Ben," she sighed, shaking her head uncertainly, "why would you even want to know? It doesn't matter, because I am a woman, and a woman's dreams do not matter in this world."

Immediately Ben halted, making Felicity come to a stop as well. He gripped her arm firmly and looked her in the emerald eyes with intense passion. "It matters to _me_, Felicity! Everything you think, everything you feel! I want to know!"

She gave him a skeptical look. "That is sweet of you, Ben, really, but for women, it doesn't matter which side wins this war. Nothing for women will change; we will still be unable to vote, we will still be unable to own land, we will still be considered weak little objects of possession who are deemed unable to make their own decisions and have absolutely no value outside of a kitchen or their husbands' bedchambers." Ben started to reply, to protest, but Felicity was faster in continuing. "You ask me what I want? _I _want control over _my _future. _I _want to make the decisions that will affect _my _life! I want to be more than just a wife and a mother! I want to do great and important things and be treated like an intelligent, respectful human being, regardless of my gender! Is that too much to ask, Benjamin Davidson?" Her chest rose and fell with her rapid, riled breathing and her green eyes were full of fire.

His hold on her arm lessened. He brought his hand up to caress her cheek tenderly. "No, of course not."

"What man is going to want a wife who has a man's ideals?" Her eyes searched his with tense apprehension of what his answer would be, if he had one.

He did. "The kind of man who values independence and freedom and is willing to fight for it," he replied readily. "A man who believes in change; for _all _of us, _including _women."

She inhaled deeply. "And are _you _that kind of-" She stopped suddenly, realizing what she was in the midst of asking him. _Are you that kind of man? _"Forgive me. I shouldn't ask such a thing."

"Don't you be sorry, Felicity," Ben told her firmly, supportively. "Don't you know the best way to learn something is by asking questions? Am I the kind of man who would want a free-spirited, independent-minded woman for a wife?" He inhaled, too, as she stared at him wonderingly. "Why yes, I _am _such a man as that!"

They stared at each other, their faces tinged pink, awkward, shy smiles spreading uncontrollably.

Despite Duke of Gloucester Street being full of people going to and fro, soldiers of both Washington's and Lafayette's strolling by, men on horses, people in carriages, Ben Davidson and Felicity Merriman felt as if the whole world had just shrunk to consist of only the two of them. Ben favored her with his winsome smile and said, "Remember what I said about my intention to win you? I am going to do just that."

Her expression softened considerably. "Remember I said you already have?"

"Aye, I remember. But I want to convince you that marriage is nothing to be afraid of." Ben laughed a little at her surprised expression and wide eyes. "Not the kind of thing you would expect as man to say, I guess." He gently linked her arm through his, and Felicity noted the mysterious sparkle in his beautiful brown eyes. "But there you have it."

"Ben," she began carefully, curiously, as they started slowly walking again, "when you told me you _wanted _me, did you mean something more than... intimacy?"

He couldn't look at her directly, lest he want to kiss that luscious pink mouth until it was bruised purple. It _frightened _him how much he wanted her. But marriage? How could he think clearly when he just could not get the images of ripping that blasted corset off of her glorious grown body out of his head? _More than intimacy? _

"Ben?" she asked worriedly_. _

"I want to know that I, too, am ready for marriage," he replied in as inspiring, confident a voice as he could. "I must begin to think of my future, preparing a place _for _a wife! A house to live in, my own store up and running-the woman I marry _must _be willing to help me in my store, you know."

Felicity grinned, as though illuminated from within, feeling her heart spin deliriously.

Ben's heart, too, felt energized and lit with joyous emotion. "You speak of the man that marries you as one who must accept you just the way you are, Miss Felicity. But did you know that a man like me requires a wife who will acept _me _just the way that _I _am?"

"I don't see how _any _woman could not accept you," she told him softly, thinking at once of the demure, alluring Clarissa Dupre and the eagerness with which the angel expressed in wanting to see Ben.

"Oh, but how well _you _know me, pretty Lissie! _You _know how hot-headed I can be. Sometimes I need to be put in my place, preferably by someone who knows just how to get through to my brain." He grinned uncontrollably and looked straight ahead. "No one has _ever _piqued my brains better than you-or my heart, either." _Or my manhood, for that matter! _he added mentally. "I am not afraid of marriage, but I want to be ready for it. When we are both ready for it, we will know. But no stress shall we put upon ourselves until then. How does that sound to you, pretty Lissie?"

She simply beamed. "That sounds like an excellent plan, Captain Davidson!" She squeezed his arm, put her head upon his shoulder and sighed with tremendous relief.

Those sweet gestures had cannons of excitement going off in the former-apprentice's head. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her ravenously. Part of him was reeling over the fact that he was back here in Williamsburg on a sunny, early-autumn day, on his way to visit friends he thought he'd never see again, strolling along quite cozily with the stunning grown daughter of his former-master. He recalled the times he escorted her to her gentlewomanly lessons at Ms. Manderly's house, the times she'd tagged along energetically when he was making a delivery. He'd always been impressed by her will, her bravery, her defiance, and he had come to love her so innocently.

Now he was crazed with the desire to bed her.

"So tell me," he began cheerfully, in an attempt to get his mind off the need for sex, "How are folks coping around here these days?"

"In better spirits now that Washington and Lafayette are here with their armies," Felicity replied easily, lifting her head from his shoulder to look around them. "Are you interested in going to see General Washington or Lafayette?"

He had considered it, for a small part of him would always feel the need to report to a superior officer. The very act itself was embedded in his subconscious thanks to five years of doing so. But being with Felicity again after so long, his personal needs demanded _her _attention and hers only. They could know each other as adults now. The child-Felicity had been a delight and a joyous wonder to know, but the grown-Felicity would be an even better delight to know...in more ways than one, Ben thought amorously. The sudden swelling of his manhood confirmed that when her hip brushed his as they walked.

Remembering that she had asked him a question, he thought fast and replied, "I should like to see if there is anyone among the men I might know, but only if _you _would accompany me."

"Oh I would love to, you know that I would!" The spark of enthusiasm was back in her eyes again. "I want to hear all about military life and meet all of your officer friends and learn about fortresses and doubtfuls-"

"You mean _'redoubts'_," Ben corrected with an affectionate laugh. Oh how he'd missed her lively chatter! He told her so. "And I cannot tell you how many times I saw something or met someone and wished with all of my heart that you were there, too."

Suddenly a male's voice called out, "Good day, Miss Felicity!"

Both Ben and Felicity turned toward the sound of the man's voice and saw a trim, sandy-haired fellow of about twenty years of age risde up alongside them on a buckskin horse, tipping his hat to Felicity and beaming all too amorously.

Jealousy reared itself within him, and Ben frowned hard.


	20. Chapter 16: Friends United

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE PT.2, CH.16: Friends United

The sandy-haired young man slowed his horse and grinned down at Felicity brilliantly. Ben frowned against the sunlight as he looked up at the young gentleman, for the fellow was unnervingly handsome.

"Good day, Mr. Damron!" Felicity smiled up at him amicably.

"Now how many times have I told you to _please _call me Christopher?" the handsome young man said, not seeming to notice Ben.

"About as many times as you _and _your look-alike cousin Juble Cox have asked for my hand in marriage," Felicity replied with a raised eyebrow and a tolerantly amused expression, which implied that these proposals had been plenty.

"Ah yes," sighed handsome Christopher Damron with comedic woe. "Did you know that Cousin Juble and I nearly came to blows over you, Miss Felicity?"

"Oh, nay, Mr. Damron, I did not. And now that I _do_, I absolutely cannot accept a proposal from either of you, for I cannot, nor will not, be a party to cousins who feud." And with that rebuke, she lifted her chin and looked away from him, still smirking.

"Oh, you wound me, Miss Felicity!" Damron exclaimed with dramatically fun sorrow, clutching his heart. "On behalf of Cousin Juble, you wound him too!"

Felicity continued to smirk waggishly, playing along. "Far better that _I _break your hearts than the both of _you _breaking each other's necks."

"Clever imp," Damron shot back flirtatiously. _Then _he seemed to notice Ben, who was looking up at him with a scowl. "Hello, there! I do not believe we've met."

"We haven't," Ben assured him gruffly.

Felicity stopped strolling and beamed proudly. "Christopher Damron, this is Captain Benjamin Davidson of Lee's Legion. He has just returned after five years of service to our country and being sorely missed! Ben, this is Christopher Damron of Queen's Creek. His father is in the ale business."

The two young men locked eyes, sizing each other up mentally, then Damron extended his hand while controlling his horse with the other. He and Ben exchanged a firm handshake, then he said, "I've heard of you, Davidson. Were you not at one time Mr. Merriman's apprentice?"

"Yes," Ben said, his voice formal.

Damron nodded at Ben's lower half. "Were you wounded in battle?"

Felicity was speaking in reply before Ben could: "He was! He nearly died! But as you can see, it takes more than just a mere musket-ball to fell a man of the Legion!" She smiled as proudly as she could and Ben felt not only a tremendous rush of affection for her, but extremely flattered as well.

"Is that what it takes for a fellow to gain your favor, Miss Felicity?" asked Damron mischeviously. "To be wounded in battle?"

She laughed, and Ben was startled, for it was not the sweet, natural, good-natured laugh that he remembered, but a forced, quite unnatural laugh with such a chilling malignancy to it that it made him forget to snap at Christopher Damron's inquiry. Laughed Felicity, "Oh, nay, Mr. Damron! Merely a fellow who can keep up with me!" She squeezed Ben's arm pointedly.

"Damron..." mused Ben aloud. He winced a brown eye in thoughtfulness. "You are not, perchance, related to _the _Spurlock Damron, the lunatic?"

The mounted young man rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Everyone always assumes that I am related to _the _lunatic-"

"Because you actually _are_," put in Felicity, with a grin.

"But I do not go about shouting it-"

"Because you needn't," put in Ben, getting amused.

"Now see here," Damron appealed to them, "just because a fellow enjoys climbing mountains and very large hills does not necessarily make him a lunatic."

"Nay,"Felicity concurred, still grinning, "but only if he does so whilst drunk."

"Then returns ranting and raving about hearing things he cannot see," added Ben.

"So my Uncle Spurlock is ale-addled!" Christopher tried to explain. "'Twas my Uncle Clevis who dared him to 'get up there and straddle that mountain.' Uncle Spurlock just _happened _to be drunk that day!"

"And has been ever since," Felicity concluded for him. "Captain Davidson and I are going a-visiting today, Mr. Damron, so if you will excuse us, we must make haste. Do give my best to Cousin Juble Cox."

Reluctantly, he tipped his hat to her again. "Very well, Miss Felicity, until we meet again. A pleasure to meet you, Captain Davidson." He flashed his handsome grin and urged his horse on.

Right away, Ben interrogated "He _and _his cousin proposed marriage to you?"

"Aye," muttered Felicity with a roll of her eyes. "They both are moderately decent fellows, but they tend to carry on like miscreants when they get around women."

Before Ben could inquire as to whether or not lunacy ran rampant in the Damron-Cox family, another male voice called out, "Good day, Miss Felicity!"

Felicity smiled politely and nodded her head in pleasant acknowledgement of the good-looking, hat-doffing older gentleman who passed them on their left. Ben turned and watched the fellow go by, looking unsettled, then asked, "Who was _that_?"

"Abner Smitty," muttered Felicity wearily. "He's a tailor."

"Good morning, Miss Felicity!" Ben's head whipped around to the right, and he saw a portly but agreeable-looking gentleman emerging from the wigmaker's shop, tipping his hat to the radient red-head at the former-apprentice's side.

"Good morning, Mr. Fouts," Felicity said politely, although looking pained.

"And who was _that_?" Ben demanded.

"Mr. Philmore Fouts, shoemaker." She sighed, her tolerance beginning to wear thin.

"Did Mr. Smitty _and _Mr. Fouts propose to you as well?"

Another heavy sigh. "Yes."

"And you turned them all down as well?"

"'Tis obvious, is it not," Felicity told him, sounding irked, "that I would have none of them? Every time a man came to Father, asking for his permission, I was scared to death that he would give it! I felt like I was being backed into a corner or about to be smothered to death! I actually felt like bolting, except that there is nowhere for me to bolt _to_!"

At this, the previously scowling Ben let his face lapse back into a considerate smile. He leaned over to her closest ear and whispered, "I have two _extremely _willing arms that beg to differ."

She giggled gleefully.

They came to Elizabeth's house chatting about the changes in Williamsburg; people who died, people who left, people who were arriving just because General Washington had arrived. Births. Weddings. Near-weddings, as reprted by Felicity: "...and Mr. Haverty had been trying ever so hard to get that prudish son of his, Edgar, to marry Miss Pomerine Mullins of Cobham, but Edgar gets so nervous around her that red spots pop out all over his face-and would you believe that Pomerine's cousin Mabelene Belcher has designs on him too? Oh, Ben, it is hilarious! Miss Pomerine and Miss Mabelene were invited for a weekend at the Haverty farm, and there sat Edgar the Broomstick between two roundy, flirtatious cousins! Mrs. Haverty's house servant Flouncy told Rose and Mother and Nan and I all about it when she-now why are you laughing like that?"

Indeed, Ben had errupted into uncontrollable guffaws. He put his arm about Felicity's tiny waist as they walked up the stone path to the Cole house. "Ah, Lissie...where do I begin? First of all, the sound of your voice is like music to my ears! Secondly, the thought of lanky Edgar Haverty sitting on a sofa betwixt two portly ladies with his face covered in red spots just makes me want to laugh so hard that I bust my stitches again!"

"HA! _Mother _laughed so hard that she popped _her _own stays!" Felicity watched Ben laugh harder, then immediately gripped his arm. "Don't you dare tell _anyone _I told you that, Benjamin Davidson!"

"I won't, I won't!" he assured her, grinning. "But poor Edgar! Whatever shall he do? How will he decide between Pomerine and Mabelene?"

Felicity shrugged, chuckling. "Most likely he will consult his books before he does anything else. Mr. Haverty doesn't really care which woman Edgar chooses-_he _just wants grandchildren!"

Ben laughed again, feeling more like his ol' teenaged self for the first time since having found himself back in the Merriman house. He was about to take hold of the Coles' brass door-knocker, when the door itself swung open, revealing Elizabeth dressed in a lovely pale green day-dress. There you are, Lissie! I thought I heard laughter!" exclaimed she, smiling wide, but then her cheerful blue eyes took in the sight of Ben Davidson with his arm around Felicity, and the smile vanished.

Ben grinned. "Hello, Elizabeth! It's been a long time-"

Elizabeth snatched Felicity's nearest arm, blurting "A moment, please," and having hauled the surprised red-head into the house, shut the door quickly, leaving Ben standing and wobbling, clearly befuddled.

Felicity nearly tripped over her own shoes. "Elizabeth! What-"

"Ben is with you!" Elizabeth declared, looking shocked.

"Oh my!" gasped Felicity, feigning dramatic surprise, "is _that _who that is? Why, I knew he looked awfully familiar, what with those brown eyes and the brown hair and the tight breeches and-"

"Oh, Felicity, do not jest so!" Elizabeth moaned impatiently, slapping her best friend's arm. "I did not expect to see _him _here! Especially with _you_...especially after what hapopened with that-that-that _Clarissa_-_person_!"

"Ben is here?" This came from Arthur Pratt, who (as no surprise) emerged from the Cole's parlor dabbing a corner of his mouth with a green cloth napkin.

From the other side of the front door came Ben's muted voice: "And he is _still _here!"

"Elizabeth, Ben and I have resolved the Clarissa-problem. I will explain it all to you later, but please do let him in!"

Arthur looked from Felicity to Elizabeth with jovial delight. "Does this mean we like Ben again?" Suddenly he put a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and cried, "There's another one, Beth! 'Ben again!' Jolly good!"

When Felicity looked momentarily baffled, Elizabeth quickly explained, "Just before you came, Arthur and I were playing a game of words-finding ones that rhyme with the names of people we know. There are many that rhyme with 'Ben'."

"How about _'in'_?" hinted Ben from the other side of the door.

"Oh!" Elizabeth blushed and hastily opened the door. "Do come in, _Captain _Davidson! Since you are once more in my dear friend's good graces, you are now back in Arthur's and mine. It _is _so very good to see you again!"

As the old friends-once-more reunited and warmly embraced, Felicity turned to Arthur and asked, "Did you think of any words that rhyme with 'Felicity'?"

"Why yes!" Arthur replied happily. "We have 'duplicity,' 'philosophy,' and 'tenacity.' That is all that we could think of betwixt the two of us. So we tried 'Lissie' and got 'missy,' 'prissy,' and 'sissy,' which are all very well and feminine-"

"But do not forget 'kissy,'" interrupted Ben, stepping over to the reddening red-head and putting his arm around her once more. "For I have found her to be irresistably kissable." To demonstrate, he promptly kissed her hot cheek.

"Well, now!" declared Elizabeth, clasping her hands together and giving Felicity the 'I want to know everything, NOW!' look. "Here we all are, together once more! Let us celebrate with refreshments! Felicity, do assist me." She grabbed her friend by a wrist and towed her toward the Cole's mini-kitchen. "The fellows can talk of manly matters while we get some cups of...whatever."

Arthur and Ben exchanged a 'Well how about _that' _look and strolled into the parlor, shaking hands.

"Where is your mother, and Dolly?" Felicity asked, as Elizabeth hauled her into the mini-kitchen and over to a table.

"Out in the big kitchen, diddling with the ham for Father's and Annabelle's arrival." But Elizabeth spoke absently about that. She plunked Felicity down at the table and stood with arms folded, a twisted smile upon her face. "Tell all."

With a soft sigh and a fond smile for her best friend Felicity Merriman began the recounting of her reconciliation with Ben. At first Elizabeth looked skeptical of Ben letting Clarissa kiss him and he not having felt anything, but eventually she began to melt, especially at the part about the kiss in the kitchen. When Felicity described sleeping with Ben overnight, Elizabeth's eyes bugged and her mouth dropped open.

"He declared his desire for me, Elizabeth," Felicity told her, as if dazed by it all, "and after a kiss like _that_, which was more amorous than anything _I _had ever fantasized before, I don't know whether to be overjoyed or overwhelmed!"

"Then surely a declaration of love cannot be too far behind," Elizabeth said encouragingly, feeling the need to sit down after being shocked by her friend's news. She sat opposite Felicity at the table. "_And _perhaps, a proposal?"

Felicity smiled again. "Maybe. I am thinking that Ben is making sure that he is ready for marriage, too. I am in love with him, Beth, of that I am certain! But I don't know if I am ready for marriage-it's such a life-altering change! Once it is done, it can't be _un_done. Or shouldn't be, rather. The intimacy part leads to children and therefore, once a girl becomes a wife, she is within months afterward a mother. Can you, Beth, see _me _as a mother?" She pointed to herself. "_Me_?"

"It does all seem so...breath-taking, doesn't it!" agreed Elizabeth, exhaling lengthfully. "I would not have accepted Arthur's proposal had I not felt confident enough to take that step in the name of love and eternal union, and I would not have felt confident if it had not been for you, Lissie. All these years that we have been like sisters you have shown me that I, too, can be brave. Because of you, I was the one who asked Arthur if he was ever going to propose to me, for I was getting tired of waiting!"

"Really?" gasped Felicity, bursting into a grin. "Why Beth, that is just the same as if _you _had asked _him _to marry you!"

Elizabeth blushed a little, smiled a wee bit mysteriously. "Heh heh! I know! And Arthur was so relieved that I was the first one of us to bring up the subject of matrimony; he claimed he didn't know how to approach it he was so nervous! But now here we are, engaged to be wed! I am ready."

"Part of me wishes that _I _was," Felicity sighed pensively. "And the other part of me wants to bolt like a frightened rabbit at the notion of being prisoner to the kitchen with a bawling baby on each hip!"

"Oh, Lissie!" Elizabeth scoffed with a grin. "Being a wife and mother will not be as bad as all that! 'Tis just your nerves talking. 'Tis normal to feel apprehensive about the future. But Ben knows you better than anyone-second to _me_, of course-and if he truly loves you and wishes to marry you, then he will be just as supportive and understanding as a husband as he has been as your childhood friend!"

"Aye," Felicity murmured softly, staring at the table-top. "In the past, even if Ben didn't understand me, he still made an effort to support me..."  
"Truly!"

Felicity's troubled green eyes rose slowly to meet Elizabeth's encouraging blue ones. "I am also afraid that I have not seen the last of Clarissa Dupre." Here Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest with what was said at the front door, but Felicity said, "I know, I know, I said Ben and I had settled that matter, but something is nagging at me, at my heart _still_! Perhaps it _is _simply nerves-it would not be the first time-but I just cannot dismiss it. I've seen the girl, Beth, she is Venus in the flesh." She shook her red head disconsolingly.

"And are you not Williamsburg's very own Artemis?" sweet Elizabeth shot back, smiling wide. "Goddess of the Hunt! No one can catch Artemis if she does not want to be caught! Independent in her own right. Clarissa or not, when does Artemis allow a man's opinion to sway her mind?"

"Lord, Elizabeth, what would I do without you?" Felicity laughed, marvelling at her friend's mind.

"You'd be just as hopelessly bored without me as I am without you and you'd never be able to have worthy adventures without me! Really, though, Lissie, think about it: If Ben loves you, then it will not matter if there are _ten _Clarissas! No other woman could steal his heart if he has already given it to _you_!"

Felicity nodded, knowing that this was true. "I feel like I've loved Ben all of my life. In fact, thinking back on it now, I do not think there was ever a time that I did _not _love him. He's made it shamelessly clear his desire for me, but I want to know that I do indeed have his heart!"

"And if you do," Elizabeth inquired lightly, "will you accept his proposal of marriage?"

A warmth spread through Felicity Merriman like a rising sun. An excitement that she had never felt before that her pixie-face lighting up and smiling uncontrollably. "Aye, Elizabeth," she breathed, awe-struck by her own revelation. "If Ben proposes to me, I will accept."

"Then I suppose you will be wanting _this _back?" Elizabeth reached into the concealed pocket of her petticoat and withdrew the signal whistle that for five years had hung so faithfully around Felicity's neck .

Felicity gasped. "Oh, you saved it! I had forgotten..." She took it gratefully.

"Well, you _were _a little preoccupied," Elizabeth told her sympathetically.

There was a pause, then both young women squealed with exhilaration and jumped up to hug.

In the parlor, even before Arthur and Ben had sat down upon the two-seater sofa, Arthur came right out with: "So when do the banns go out?"

"The _what_?" asked Ben, baffled, as he laid his tricorn on the lovely cherry-wood table before them and plopped himself down on the two-seater.

"The banns, young Benjamin!" exclaimed Arthur, sitting down beside him. The cheerful blond Brit was as happy as a clam. "Concerning your and Felicity's wedding, of course."

Ben turned beet red (an uncontrollable reaction that proved that five years of military life had not quite vanquished his shyness after all) and said, "I haven't even, ah, proposed to her, Arthur. We're not-that is, we haven't-"

"_Wot_?" cried Arthur, his posture going tree-trunk straight, his eyebrows shooting up. "Not proposed to Felicity yet? Whyever not?"

Ben sighed in frustration. "Lord knows, Arthur, that I wanted to _demand _that she marry me the moment I saw her! My desire for that girl is like nothing I've ever experienced in my life! I _want _her, Arthur, and you know what I mean by that. I feel like a wolf on the verge of pouncing! All I can think about is bedding her! I'm going mad, dammit!"

"What is wrong with that?" Arthur asked, seeing no porblem at all. "'Tis not a horrible thing to desire with your body the one you love with all of your heart."

"Aye, I know, I know!" Ben leaned forward on his elbows, looking miserable. "But I can't get past being in a constant state of arousal to know that I am ready to marry her! We were the best of friends before I left, and I was in the war longer than I lived with the Merrimans. Now that I'm back, thinking about my future, I want Felicity desperately in more ways than one!"

Arthur nodded understandingly. "What does your heart tell you, young Benjamin?"

Ben didn't even need to take a moment. "That I cannot live without her, that she _must _be the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning and the last thing I see before I close my eyes at night."

"And that you want to make her a Davidson?" suggested Arthur, lit up with gleeful anticipation.

"Aye," Ben breathed, feeling his heart lighten considerably. "I want that."

"Then you _are _ready! 'Tis only normal to be nervous about proposing to your girl. The Good Lord knows _I _was! It got so that Elizabeth got frustrated with me when we were out picnicking one day, and she asked me if I was _ever _going to propose to her!"

"You don't say!"

"Why, indeed I do! I was so relieved that she did." Arthur wiped a hand across his brow. "We fellows have it rather hard upon us to do all of the proposing all of the time, do we not?"

"I suppose so," Ben replied, laughing a little. "But Lissie's afraid of marriage. Especially where childbirth is concerned, I'll wager, and I know that there is good reason for that, but she thinks that once she is married she is supposed to change drastically! I want her to know that I _never _want her to change, Arthur. Not ever!"

"It sounds to me, Mr. Davidson," said Arthur coyly, "that you are thinking with more than just your man-part after all."

Ben leaned back, laughing hard from the gut. God, how he'd missed the company of these friends who created mirth so easily! "Maybe so, Mr. Pratt! I'm surprised I'm able to think at all with a man-part the size of Williamsburg!"

"See here, now!" protested Arthur with comedic disapproval. "That is one claim that I must wholeheartedly dispute with you, young Benjamin, on the grounds that _I _have already made that boast my own!"

"Oh! Forgive me, old man! Allow me to rephrase myself, then: 'I am surprised that I am able to think at all with a man-part the size of Richmond.'"

"There you are! That's better." Arthur smiled pleasantly, strumming his fingers absently upon his knees (as Ben's grin went crooked, waiting...). Then Arthur suddenly frowned. "Now hold on a moment! Richmond is _larger _than Williamsburg!"

Ben merely grinned as Felicity and Elizabeth entered the room, Elizabeth carrying a tray of scones and homemade raspberry tea. Both young men immediately rose (with Arthur still looking as though the 'manly-matter' was still up for debate), and Ben immediately went to Felicity so that he could sit with her and Elizabeth with Arthur. Ben noticed right away that his signal whistle was back around Felicity's slender neck, resting upon its coveted spot upon her breasts.

He wanted to shout for joy.

She smiled warmly at him as they sat upon the lovely ivory-patterned two-seater across from Elizabeth and Arthur. Ben sat so that he was tuned toward Felicity, and he could not contain his enthusiasm and elation over the symbolism his signal whistle held, so he quickly leaned in for a kiss at her dainty ear.

"Ben!" she giggled objectionately, but made no move to keep him from slipping an arm around her waist and his other hand from taking hers.

"Hmph! 'Richmond' indeed!" pouted Arthur, albeit with humor.

"Oh Arthur, what are you on about?" Elizabeth quieried as she poured them all cups of her tea.

Felicity grinned at Ben. "Like an old married couple, aren't they?"

"It suits them," agreed Ben, still mesmerized by Felicity's green eyes, noticing as if for the first time the tiny flecks of gold near the pupils and thinking them the most stunning sight he'd ever seen.  
The way Ben was gazing at her made Felicity want to giggle and squirm. The intensity in his ardent brown eyes and the warmth of his nearness gave her such sensations of dizzying excitement that swooning was not entirely out of the question. Only Ben Davidson had ever made her fell this way. These were not feelings she was accustomed to having, and being in love as a grown lady was even more profound than what she had experienced as a little girl. This grown-up Ben was awakening within her needs and yearnings that she had no names for or could relate to anything else in her entire young life.

When he was close to her, she wanted hm closer. His breath upon her skin made her tingle ferociously. _This, _thought Felicity deleriously, _must be what it is like to WANT. With one's body. The need-no, the HUNGER to touch, to feel, to be...intimate. No wonder men are obsessed with it and women are afraid of it! Well I am not. Not afraid. I desire Ben as he desires me. One _can _love and desire at the same time._

"Felicity and I were just discussing the most splendid plan before we came in," Elizabeth chattered spiritedly as she gave Arthur his cup and saucer. "We are going to arrange a picnic for just the four of us!"

"What a novel idea!" exclaimed Arthur, beaming.

Elizabeth nodded vigorously. "We shall have refreshments down by Miller's Pond, if there are no soldiers remaining there, that is. You _will _join us, won't you, Ben?"

Ben smiled, forcing his eyes away from Felicity's face and noting with amusement how it appeared that some of his beloved red-head's audacity had rubbed off on the sweet, petite Elizabeth Cole. It was as endearing as it was charming. "Of course I will. I'd like that very much."

"Then it is settled!" Elizabeth gave one of her knees a light pat. "We shall picnic on the first Saturday in October. The trees will just be beginning to turn and the afternoons will be most pleasant. I will be done with most of my gown, and I can take some time to better enjoy the four of us being back together again."

"Ah yes, the Fearsome Foursome," Arthur further agreed. "Reunited once more."

Ben chuckled. "What were the three of you called while I was away?"

"The Transcendant Trio," Felicity told him proudly. "We were a gala unto ourselves!"

"But now we have a man of the Legion among us!" declared Arthur. "If no one cares for our comedy, then Captain Ben will _dramatize _them with his sword!"

The four of them laughed easily, feeling more light-hearted than they had in a long, long time. For Elizabeth, the joy she was feeling came from her beloved friends and her Arthur, all of them together. For Arthur Pratt, his joy was derived simply by being with Elizabeth and being alive. For Felicity, her happiness came from love; the love of her two best friends and her ever-escalating love for Ben Davidson. And then, ultimately, there was Ben Davidson himself, former-apprentice, former cavalry-captain, madly in love/lust with his master's grown enchantress-of-a-daughter. His best friend from his adolescence. Ben's happiness radiated from his decision to write to his father this evening and inform the elder Davidson of his intentions to marry Master Edward Merriman's eldest daughter, Felicity.

He had decided just then that he was ready. He would help Felicity see that she was ready, too.

The four friends laughed and ate and talked together, each one of them secretly pondering their futures and each other. Unknown to them, most unfortunately, their happiness was to be short-lived, for after October their lives would change shockingly, irreversibly.

Chapter FINISHED!


	21. Chapter 17: The ULTIMATE Proposal

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2, CH. 17:

Near to the end of September-the twenty-eigth, to be exact-General George Washington led the massive manpower of combined armies out of Williamsburg early in the morning and on toward Yorktown, where Cornwallis was holed up, leaving behind anxious citizens with the knowledge that a great battle was coming. Surely it would end the war at last...at long, _long _last.

Nan Merriman stole out of the house early that morning, with Felicity by her side, to the road in hopes of seeing Lucien on his way out of town with his regiment. The drums beat a grave march, but every soldier that passed looked confident and ready. Lucien knew just where to look for Nan, and they nodded to each other briefly.

Nan continued to stare in his direction even after the eerie early morning darkness had swallowed him up. Absently, she mumbled, "He asked me to marry him, you know."

"He what?" Felicity gaped, gob-smacked. "Nanette Merriman! What did you reply? What did _Father _say? Lord Almighty! You've just turned fourteen! When-how-where?"

"Lissie," Nan soothed calmly(and trying hard not to laugh), taking her awe-stricken sister's arm and drawing the both of them away from the road, closer to their own house, "please do not pop a stay. There is no cause for alarm, really. _Father _has not said boo about anything, because _Father _does not know. And as for the proposal itself, I told Lucien _no_."

Felicity's mouth dropped open. As Nan waited for her to collect her wits, Felicity managed to form a sensible sentence and asked, "B-But I thought you were in love with him-did you not just spend every available moment with him?"

Nan's smile was cryptic. "I _am _in love with him, Lissie. But I do not want him to believe that I can be so easily won. I flirt with his friends, with some of the American soldiers, too, but I save my kisses just for him. I've made it explicitly clear that I will not marry until the war is over, nor will I be removed from my family even _if _France is so tempting."

"Oh, Nan!" Felicity breathed in wonderment. "All of us adore Lucien. He is brave and kind and loyal. But I know Mother and Father worry about him wanting to take you back to France with him, but if you do not want to leave Virginia..." She gulped. "What has Lucien to say?"

"Well, he understands that I will not marry before the war is over-many couples have decided upon that, as you know. He wishes for me to meet his family, but in order for me to do that..." She gave Felicity a head-cocked look. "Lucien also likes it here on the continent. He likes how there is plenty of land and opportuniies here. But if he chooses to live here, he will be apart from his family, and if I go with him to France..."

"You will be apart from yours," Felicity finished the obvious for her as Nan nodded. "Could his family not come here?"

Nan's smile turned thin. "Perhaps no more than ours could go _there_. Sea voyages are such hardships! I just cannot comprehend why our William wishes to go to sea! Lucien wrote his family aboout me, but he has not heard back from them yet. And on top of all of _that_, there is the matter of my being only fourteen, as you've said. Father will not consent to my marrying anyone before I am sixteen. He has been most gracious in allowing Lucien and I to court simply because Lucien has proven himself trustworthy and upright."

"And is Lucien decent with you when you are alone with him?" Felicity asked.

Nan chuckled. "Aye. Oh, there have been a few times where he has attempted a kiss where he was not invited, but I remedy that with a swift swat of my fan!"

"Dear Nan, you never cease to amaze me," Felicity told her, giving the girl a tight hug. "I hope everything turns out for the best for you and Lucien, truly I do! He would be a wonderful addition to our family, but I could never do without you if you were to go away to France!"

"Never fear, sister," Nan assured her, with a kiss to Felicity's cheek as they clasped hands. "I shan't put anyone but God before my family."

Felicity felt comforted by that, but also a little concerned. "There _does _come a time, Nan, when daughters must become wives and have homes of their own...unfortunately," she added ruefully.  
"True, but there is plenty of time for that, for both of us. Has..._Ben _proposed to you yet?"

"Nay, he has not! He has been very mysterious lately." Felicity looked thoughtful. "But I will not excite myself about it until there is a reason to."

"A very wise idea, that," approved Nan with a raised eyebrow. "He always behaves quite eagerly around you."

"Hee hee! I do not think he can help it!"

Nan said nothing in response to that. She kept her concerns to herself for the present, as the two sisters returned to the house. She was not oblivious to the fact that Felicity had been getting up in the night to sneak into bed with Ben to finish sleeping the night away. Once upon a time Nan Merriman would have gone to her mother and father and informed on this outlandish behavior, but she had since learned that being a tattle-tale was an unapproved of behavior as well, and that whatever no-no's a person committed usually came back to bite them in the bum.

She feared this behavior would do so to her sister.

But Nan would not say anything to anyone, not just because she valued Felicity's trust and confidence, but she felt that _someone _had to keep an eye out for her sister's best interests. Ben was a grown man now, with a grown man's interests. So intense, so..._taken _with Felicity that it was almost alarming.

She hoped her worries about Ben Davidson's reliability would not amount to anything...for Felicity's sake.

Though Nan and Felicity did get their bedchamber back and Ben was given the guest room, felicity still desired to sneak off to him in the night. Sometimes Nan heard her sister softly giggle, most of the time she heard nothing at all. There was _some _comfort in knowing that if any violations of innocence were going on, there would be _other sounds _made likely to wake the entire household.

At least Ben Davidson hadn't crossed _that _line yet.

Annabelle and Mr. Cole returned to Williamsburg at the end of September, but without Annabelle's fiance, the Major Basil Crumb, who'd been detained in New York on 'stand-by' orders. But being still a Major, he dispatched four of his best men to accompany the future Mrs. Crumb and her father back to their family. So Elizabeth was preoccupied with their return for a few days, in which Annabelle was surprisingly civil to Arthur and could speak of nothing but her dashing Major.

"He is the son of an earl, you know," Annabelle chirped excitedly at dinner one evening, "the son of the Earl of Dunlevy and heir to the title!"

"Yes, Annabelle, we know that," reminded Elizabeth tiredly. "_Everyone _knows that by now."

Annabelle Cole was pleased.

But with all of the gossip-swapping at the Cole dinner-table, Elizabeth herself had the most interesting news, for the very evening that she, Arthur, Felicity and Ben had visited in the Cole parlor Elizabeth had learned something interesting...

...Ben had wrote his father, who he had learned was in Richmond for the duration of Cornwallis's occupation of Yorktown, then later that evening, came to Mr. Merriman's study door, and knocked softly.

"Yes? Ben? Don't just stand there, lad, come in," Mr. Merriman said to him, as the nervous former-apprentice stepped in, seeing that his former master was seated behind his desk writing in a ledger with his quill.

Ben gulped anxiously. His hands were clasped behind his back and the frame of his body was military-stiff. He'd never been this nervous when standing before colonels and generals! Despite a bone-dry throat, he said, "If you are the least bit busy, sir, I can come back another time-"

"Nonsense!" Mr. Merriman told him good naturedly. "I've been expecting you. Actually, I'm very surprised its taken you _this _long!"

"Sir?" Ben felt his face grow hot.

Mr. Merriman removed his reading spectacles, grinned, and laid aside his quill so that he could lean back in his mahogany high-backed chair. He favored the antsy young cavlary captain with a fatherly eye. "Correct me if I'm wrong, and I think we both know that I am not, but you have come to talk to me about _Felicity_."

Ben inhaled and nodded, unable to speak lest his voice jump out of his throat in a squeak. Mr. Merriman nodded at the chair in front of his desk and said, "So sit down there, Ben, and talk to me about our Felicity. I must warn you, however, I shall only pretend to be surprised by what you have to say. Or _ask_, rather."

Ben quickly sat down, then lifted his rump off the seat so that he could scoot the chair closer to the desk, then sat again and gripped the chair arms with white knuckles...

One morning a few days later (which was how long it took for Ben to gather his nerves for what he wanted to do), Ben found Felicity out in the barn, brushing Penny and humming to herself as she worked. She was alone, thank the Lord, for it seemed to Ben that someone was always in need of her, but in his own self-reasoning no one was in greater need of her than himself. Though his musket-ball wound was healing at an improving rate, he still limped, but at least he was not grimacing or wincing.

Ben Davidson had fought in several major balttles, countless skirmishes, faced death more times than he could count, shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with the likes of Generals George Washington, Nathaniel Greene, 'Mad Anthony' Wayne, and Daniel Morgan, but every bit of that paled in comparison to his approaching the most beautiful girl in the world, one sixteen year old faerie queen named Felicity Merriman. Limping out to the barn, his head swam with 'what-if's, maybe's and might's', his heart beat as though it were going to burst, and he actually trembled a bit.

After all, 'twas only his life changing forever in this hour.

When he stepped into the barn and found her with Penny, he thought his heart was going to burst. She was a heavenly sight, in her hunter-green riding habit, her red hair wafting about loose fron its ribbon around a pixie-face befitting a magical character out of the tales of old about sorcerers, elves and unicorns. She must have sensed someone watching her, for she suddenly turned and, seeing that it was him, flashed him an instant grin-her special grin, the one meant only for him that spoke of affection, warmth and cheerfulness without her having uttered a single word.

But she did say, "Hello, Ben! Care for a ride? Or does Father want you in the store today?"

"N-No, he, ah, knows that I have important business to tend to this morning," replied he, with his heart banging in his ears like the call to arms.

"Oh." She sounded disappointed, but her smile for him did not falter. "I myself would be bound for Elizabeth's house before noon, but seeing how that Annabelle is there..." She shrugged, looking somewhat amused more than annoyed. "She and I never did get on well. So...will your 'business' detain you for long?"

Ben stepped forward, licking his dry lips. "As a matter of fact, I am hoping that this 'business' will detain me for always." He smiled hintingly.

Felicity, as he suspected, looked confused. "Say what? Ben, you are not possibly wanting to go back into the army, are you?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," he chuckled. He took another step closer to her, hands clasped behind his back as he regarded her with an impish smile. Inside, his nerves were jingle-jangling. "My 'business', Miss Felicity, is with _you_."

She stopped brushing Penny's mane and stared at him. "Are you trying to mystify me, Captain Davidson? Because if you are, you have succeeded!"

"Forgive me, let me rectify that." He cleared his throat, putting on an air of mock professionalism that debated with his playful smile. "Felicity, I have had a serious talk with your father in which I appealed to him in a matter of tremendous importance to me. The matter of which is none other than yourself and our future together."

"Oh, Ben..." She made a sudden move towards him, dropping her curry brush, then stopped and searched his passionate brown eyes in wonder. "Did you...did you ask him about _us_? Did you ask him if we could begin to officially...court?"

Right away, he shook his head as he limped closer to her. "Nay, Lissie. _Courting _you is the _last _thing I want. I do not _wish _to court you."

"Oh." Her gaze fell sharply as the air left her lungs and she began to consider herself a born idiot. "That was really silly of me to think-"

"You see," interrupted he, closing some more inches between them, "I do not want to court you. I want to _marry _you."

Her green eyes went wide, then even wider as she watched Ben slowly lower himself before her upon one knee, taking into his hands both of hers, bringing them to his lips for a kiss to each. She had begun to shake. Ben, too, was trembling, as he was feeling an entire range of powerful emotions storming through him. Feeling as though every struggle and every battle he'd ever faught was meant to bring him right to this moment. The war had made a man out of him, so that he could return to the girl he loved and take her for his very own. Yes, he was ready.

Was _she_?

"Felicity Merriman," he began in what he hoped was his very best earnest and soul-bareing voice (which actually had a quiver in it), "from the day I first met you, I felt that we were bonded. I loved you right from the very beginning- it just took me a little while to understand what it was I was feeling! Somehow, I just _knew _that we were meant for each other!"

Felicity's chin trembled.

He was on a roll now, and could not stop. His very future, his very life, was being placed into her sweet hands. "Whenever I think of, or _have _thought of, my future, you have been in every image, at my side or me at yours. I don't _want _you to change, Lissie, not ever! I don't _expect _you too, nor would I ever seek to change you. All of those things that I love about you are the very things I hope you always possess! Would you want _me _to change?"

"No." It came out as an almost-whisper. Her eyes were filling with tears. "But-But Ben, I have no dowry- Father had to spend a great deal of money on repairing the store..."

"I don't care about that, nary a whit!" Ben said promptly, pressing the backs of her hands to his lips again. "I want _you_, Lissie, not your father's money. I want to _marry _you. I just want you and nothing else." He gulped, readying himself. "Will you marry me, Felicity Merriman? Marry me and be mine forever and ever?"

She had felt herself go weak in the knees , her breathing suspend and her skin tingle with shock-excitement. Ben was proposing _marriage _to her! _He _was ready to become a husband, and he was asking _her _to be his wife! A WIFE! He wanted her to become Felicity _Davidson_. They would share a home together, work in a store together, share a bed _intimately _together. And marriage was _forever_, or was supposed to be. She was not one to take vows lightly.

_Forever!_

This _did _mean change, and he had said that he did not want her to change. The spiraling of her emotions was making her dizzy. _Am I ready? Is it now or never? _The hope and pleading in his handsome brown eyes pierced her to the soul, and she was so overcome with her love and longing for this young man that all hesitation and worry was swept clear out of her mind. She took his face into her hands.

"If you need some time to think about it, Lissie, I under-"

"No, Ben."

He blinked rapidly, caught off guard by her reply. "Huh? Wh-what?"

"I said _no_." Then she broke into a wide grin. "I meant 'No, I do not need any time to think about it.'"

His breath caught, his eyes grew big. "Then...does this mean..."

"YES!" Felicity blurted. "Yes, I will marry you, Benjamin Davidson!"

"You will? You _really _will?"

"YES! Yes, yes, yes, and more yesses!"

"WOO-HOO!" As he started to rise, Felicity threw herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck, sending them both into the hay bales behind them. Ben landed with an "Ooof!" and Felicity with wild giggles on top of him, hugging him as hard as she could. He, too, laughed, hugging her tightly, and did not complain in the least when she raised up on her hands on either side of his head and began a crazy assault of kisses upon his forehead, cheeks and nose.

Panting breathlessly, she rested her forehead upon his and breathlessly whispered, "Am I dreaming, Ben Davidson?"

"Nay, my beauty, you are not," he whispered back, just as breathless as she. Her gentle weight upon him drove him wild with desire. "You and I were meant to be."

"Oh, it just seems too good to be true!" she cried blissfully, dropping her red head upon his left shoulder. "You and I forever..."

"Aye, Lissie," he murmured softly, rubbing her back up and down. "Forever."

She raised her head and looked at him with such love in her emerald eyes that he was instantly compelled to hold her body firmly against his as he rolled the both of them onto their sides facing each other. But feeling a little guilty, he said, "I'm sorry that I don't have anything to give you just yet, like a piece of jewlery, or even something bigger, like-"

"Ssssh," she commanded softly, placing gentle fingers upon his lips. "We have no need of trinkets when we have this..." She took the hand of his that was busy caressing her cheek and drew it down the side of her neck, over her sensitive collar-bone and down to the roundness of her breasts, upon which lay again the signal whistle. He inhaled deeply, his fingers brushing over the polished wood.

"This is all of the symbolism we need," she told him with firm assurance.

His impassioned brown eyes came back up to lock with her fiery green ones, and he could not resist the urge to kiss her. So that he did, kissed her hard and profoundly as if his life depended on it (which in his mind it did), and as he did, _she _boldly took that hand of his that was holding the whistle and moved it's palm upon one of her breasts, holding it there firmly. In response to her uninhibited gesture, he groaned and she whimpered. He kissed her again harder and she pressed closer.

His eager, hungry mouth moved to her neck, kissing and tasting it's soft, sensitive flesh. Without them having given thought to their bodies' movements, she had rolled completely onto her back and he over her, with her still keeping his hand clamped to her breast. She sighed deliriously, longingly, arching her upper half up beneath his hand, giving him more of her exposed neck and demanding more of his attentions in return.

His parted lips drew along her chin and stopped temptingly at her mouth. "I want to give you everything," he panted, as if desperate. "Everything I have, everything I am, everything you desire. Tell me, Felicity Merriman, did you really mean it when you said 'yes'?"

She gazed up at him seriously through long dark lashes and murmured, "Yes, Ben, I meant it. I do not take vows lightly, and I do not take it back. 'Tis my choice, and I chose _you _for my husband. I am more happy than words can describe because of you."

With tremedous reluctance, he moved his hand from her corset-bound breast to stroke her cheek. "If you are happy, _I _am happy. I promise you, Lissie, I will make you the best of husbands."

"I know you will, Ben." She beamed, held his face; that utterly handsome face that used to have the look of an innocent, eager young boy, but had now become the sharpened, chisled face of a young man who had a far greater awareness of the world via war. This boy, this _man_, had always had her heart. It was in that very moment that Felicity realized, with a measure of amusement, she was now ruined for any other man.

"What's that wicked little smile for, girl?" Ben asked, his fingers now caressing her collarbone.

"You claim to know me so well, _Captain _Davidson," teased she, "_you _tell _me_!" As happy as she was now, she also felt empowered. Emboldened, as if she had not already been. She brought his face down to hers and thrust her tongue into his mouth, pressing against his, and arched her body up so that he could feel that she, too, knew what desire was. He groaned helplessly, unable to stop his own eager hand from stealing down to her breast again, let his fingers feel its firm, roundish shape.

Sweet Christ. And they were supposed to _wait _until their wedding night?

"Lissie, I can't...can't stop..."

By way of reply, she used her own warn lips to further open his. _I, too, can be fierce, _she thought playfully, squirming with delight as Ben's hand moved firmly down the side of her body. A tingling, wild and hot, spread all over her and through her, exciting her skin in a way that she was quickly learning was capable of driving her right out of her mind.

"You-I-we-" Ben swallowed with difficulty, inhaled, grimaced against the raging erection demanding attention from the both of them. "You just have no idea what you are capable of doing to a man."

Felicity propped up on her elbows. "So tell me, then."

"Oh, believe me, Lissie, you will find out soon enough." In saying that, something else came to mind. "Sit up here."

She sat up, looking curious as well as enthralled.

"I wrote to my father about you," Ben told her, slightly rocking back and forth as he attempted to get ahold of his crazed desires. "I want to go to Richmond and get my merchant's certificate, get a store set up here, and get us a home of our own. Now what do you think about that?"

"Oh, Ben, all of that sounds so fine!" And she meant it, even though she was still dazed silly by having just become engaged to be married to him this morning. She grinned and began picking hay out of his long brown hair. "It's all so new and wonderful!"

Ben thought of something else, too. "You-you're not afraid that I'm wanting to marry you just so I can bed you?"

She leaned against him, put her chin on his shoulder. "Are _you_?"

"My heart says 'of course not!' I _do _love you, Lissie, I always have. It's just that sometimes- ah, hell, I just want you so much _all of the time _it scares me to death!"

That made Felicity smile. His body was so tense with arousal, 'twas plain to see as well as feel, and amused by the constant battle between his conscience and _man-part_, she took sweet pity upon him by saying kindly, "Arthur Pratt says 'tis perfectly natural to desire with one's body the one you love with your heart."

"Aye," Ben agreed, recalling the quote. "Smart lad, that Arthur."

"Oh indeed," said Felicity absently. "Did you know that he babbles in Latin when he is tipsy?"

Ben cocked an eyebrow, grinning. "_Our _Arthur? Arthur _Pratt_? When does _he _get drunk?"

"There were a couple of times I can think of right off, like at his and Elizabeth's engagement party and his mother's Yuletide party last year. Both times he had too much wine and syllabub, and started spouting things like _'Carpe cerevise!' _which is 'Seize the beer!' and _'Ergo bibamus!' _which is 'Therefore, let us drink' and everyone did just that. Oh he never gets piss-drunk, just tipsy, but he's still just as hilarious."

Ben laughed, a little of his sexual tension relieved for the moment. He put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his chest and kissed the top of her red-head. "You _promise _that you'll marry me, pretty Lissie?"

"Aye, Ben Davidson," she murmured dreamily, hugging him hard. "I promise."

"God be praised."

She pressed her forehead to his cheek. "I love you, Ben."

"And I love you...more than you know."

They held each other tight, the both of them in their excitement and bliss marvelling at this moment. Childhood friends, soon to be husband and wife. Felicity broke the emotional silence with her soft murmurs; "Felicity _Davidson_. _Mrs_.Davidson. Mrs._Felicity _Davidson. Mr. and _Mrs_.Davidson. T_he _Davidsons. Captain Benjamin Davidson and his _wife_..."

Ben chuckled and gave her a squeeze. "They all sound so perfect, don't you agree?"

"Oh yes. I shall be proud to have your name."

And damned if he wasn't aroused _again_! 'Twas a wild wonder how she could affect him not only with her glorious, grown body, but with words just as much. "As proud as I have been to become a member of the Merriman family."

She released a little squeal of joy. "Ben, Mother and Father will be so happy for us! You know that Father has always thought of you as his own son!"

Happiness, indeed, was flowing like liquid gold inside of him at that fact. "Aye. He has been more of a father to me than my _own _father!" He stroked the stray silky wisps of red hair from Felicity's face as she looked at him worriedly.

"Ben, will your father approve of me? Will he even _like _me?" She tensed, having not thought of this before now. She knew so little about Ben's family! "Your family is wealthy; your father would want you to marry well, within your league, someone-"

He silenced her with a hard kiss, then looked her steadily in the eyes. "I love _you_, my child-bride. I choose _you_. It does not matter what anyone thinks. _Only _you and I."

"That is true," Felicity admitted, "but I want everyone to be as happy as I am! I want your father to like me and approve. I know nearly nothing about him except that he is a good friend of Father's! I did meet him once, but I was so young I can't recall anything more than his tall form and stern look."

Ben smiled a little. "That's the impression he likes to give- that he's always serious and strict. But he's not, at least he wasn't before Mother died. Now he's more like...empty. Reserved." He poked at some hay at his toe. Penny had ambled over to munch on a clump. "He remarried just before I came to Williamsburg. Married a well-off widow named Opal Sisk. He loves her, it seems, but he's not _in _love with her. They married for companionship, Lissie. My father will never be in love with any other woman but my mother, and Mrs. Sisk will only ever be in love with her deceased husband. But she and my father keep each other company. They get on well. And as far as _you _are concerned, my beautiful bride, he will like you, I am sure of it. He loves horses, so that there is already one thing the two of you have in common! He will like you when he sees how happy you make me. When he sees you now, all grown up and looking like a faerie-tale come to life, he will agree with me that you are the most beautiful girl he's ever seen since he met Mother!"

Felicity was mesmirized and astonished. "Oh Ben, those are such dear things to say! I want so much for everyone to be happy with our wedding!"

"No one will be happier than I," Ben murmured as he brought her face to his with a hand upon the back of her head. "Mark me, my ravishing bride, there will be no happier man alive."

"Nor any happier _woman_," Felicity added as his warm lips brushed her cheek.

"I am going to marry you, Felicity," he said huskily in her ear. "I am going to make you my wife, as you were meant to be, and we are going to be together forever."

Felicity sighed softly against his cheek. "Then kiss me quick, Ben Davidson, before I die of happiness..." And he did just that, hard and deep. Always with intensity, always leaving her dizzy, shaken and wanting more.

Before he got carried away, he brought the both of them to their feet, picked the hay out of her beautiful red hair and inhaled fully. 'Twas time to tell their news to the rest of the family. There was bound to be shrieks of joy, jumping up and down and lots of hugging. Encouragingly, he took her hand in his and asked, "Are you ready, my bride?"

_Whoosh! _Her reply was a quivering, thrilled and breathless "Yes, my groom, I am ready. Let's go spread our joy to the masses!" Hand in hand they left the barn, their first steps toward their future...

"...and so Ben and Felicity are now happily engaged to be married at last!" Elizabeth beamed proudly to the still agog Annabelle Cole, who was neglecting her much slaved-over ham as she was too shocked to eat. Elizabeth's manners kept her from cackling like a crazy chicken, but inside she was rolling in mirth at her older sister's reaction. "Everyone suspected 'twas only a matter of time once Ben got home from the war. They make _such _an adorable couple!"

"Oh indeed they do, Beth," agreed Mrs. Cole. "Felicity's such a lovely little thing, so spirited! She has been a tremendous help in working with Elizabeth's gown-she and that charming younger sister of hers, Nan! If anyone can get a handle on that wayward Benjamin Davidson, 'tis Felicity Merriman. Their energies are well-matched."

Annabelle gaped at her mother.

"Actually, Mama, 'tis Ben who has tamed Felicity! They are the talk of the town! Them and General Washington." She looked at Annabelle to see what reaction _this _would get, but the eldest Cole daughter quickly shut her mouth and looked down at the peas in her plate. Elizabeth couldn't help it-she had to know about something...

"Annabelle, you _will _want to send Ben and Felicity your best wishes, won't you? After all, they _are _happy for you and Basil, you know."

"Yes, dear, you certainly should do that," advised Mrs. Cole pleasantly. "Do you remember how you were so ridiculously infatuated with that boy? Seems like a lifetime ago!" She reached over and patted Annabelle's limp hand heartily. "But now you are a grown woman and you have made a _splendid _conquest with the Major!"

Annabelle smiled, though it was entirely forced. She finished her meal in complete silence, knowing that Elizabeth's eyes were upon her. Was it so obvious that she still harbored a soft-spot for the former apprentice? _Of course _she was in love with the dashing Basil Crumb, but, never having been one to let anything go willingly, she could never forget (what she considered to be) her first love.  
Nor how she lost him to that little witch, Felicity Merriman.

Oh, she'd never forgotten that she was planning and scheming her revenge upon Felicity with intentions of seeing it through. Then Father had taken her to New York with him. Then she became the darling of many a Loyalist officer, which proved to be a distraction, which _also _led to Basil Crumb. Basil spoiled her rotten. Basil believed that whenever a wrong was done to you, you must be revenged. Annabelle believed that, too.

No one took what Annabelle Cole wanted without paying a price for it. This could be her last chance to get back at the little bitch before she married Basil. 'Twas now or never.

Now what, exactly, would be the fitting punishment for the likes of Felicity Merriman and yet do-able at the same time?

CHAPTER FINISHED!


	22. Chapter 18: Intimate Matters

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2 CH.18: Intimate Matters

'Twas the first weekend of October, a cool but sunny Saturday, with shades of red and gold beginning to tint the trees. Miller's Pond was empty of camping militiamen, leaving room for those who wished to lay a blanket at its edge and enjoy the company of beloved friends and good refreshments. And such was the arrangement of Elizabeth, Arthur, Felicity and Ben. They cast down a wide red-checkered quilt at the base of a magnificent maple and placed themselves upon it with a huge basket of food and delights, such as warm cider for drinking and warm apple pie for noshing. There was, of course, much laughter and conversation, and the comedic notion that each couple was there to 'chapereone' the other.

When stomachs were full of greens, apple pie and ham, the four of them sat back satisfied, the two young men with an arm around their beautiful fiances, enjoying the peace and quiet that usually accompanies stuffed tummies."'Tis rumored, Mr. Pratt," said Ben, with the air of mischief about him, "that you have a tendency to speak Latin when you've had too much cheer."

"That is correct, young Benjamin," replied Arthur easily. "I am a learned man, you see, so that even when I am full of spirits I am able to prattle intelligently." He cleared his throat and lifted his chin with a scholarly air. "_Brevior saltare cum deformibus mulieribus est vita, _I'll have you know!"

"In English, Arthur," grinned Felicity, leaning agasinst Ben.

" 'Life is too short to dance with ugly women'."

"Such wise words!" marvelled Ben exaggeratingly, also with a grin.

Elizabeth got to her feet, pulled on Arthur's left arm. "Come along, Arthur, let us go a-walking!"

"But love! I am full!" the happy blond Brit protested, albeit weakly, for he could never say _no _to his heart's desire. "I have ate myself into a silly stupor and am too full of pie at the moment-"

"_Fortitudine vincimus,*" _quoted Elizabeth, pulling insistently. "Now get up and take me strolling"

"_Cedo maiori_,**" sighed Arthur, grinning and getting up.

"Ah! _Dulcius ex asperis_!" sighed Felicity adoringly. She and Elizabeth exchanged a knowing wink.

Ben's face came close to Felicity's ear. Care to translate, pretty Lissie?"

" _'Through difficulty, sweetness.' "_

"Nay, I mean that wink you just exchanged with Elizabeth."

"Oh!" Felicity giggled as she watched her two friends stroll off arm-in-arm. "Beth and I intended to be alone with our men after our lunch. So, now, here we are...alone." She leered at him suggestively.

"I take it you do not wish for me to take _you _a-strolling as well?" Ben inquired, nuzzling her soft warm cheek.

"Nay! We are both in a pie-induced silly stupor, so we shall sit and enjoy each others' company." Pointedly, she scooted back so that she was against the trunk of the maple tree. She took up Ben's grey coat, folded it into a square and placed it upon her lap. She patted it encouragingly. "Head here, if you will."

"Oh, indeed I will!" Ben eagerly brought himself to her, laid his head upon his coat in her lap, and instantly fell into a drowzy, aroused stupor that had nothing to do with pie, but merely Felicity's fingers stroking his thick brown hair lovingly. He gazed up at her through lazy, fascinated eyes. "When did you learn Latin?"

She smiled, cocked her head adoringly as she returned his thouhgtful gaze."When Arthur was attending the college and learning it, he would turn right around and teach anything he learned to Elizabeth and me. 'Tis said that a woman has no need of learning anything outside the home, much less Latin, but I rather enjoyed it! It makes me feel smart and important. Oh, I suppose a man would scoff at that kind of reasoning, but when you are constantly told 'You're a woman! You needn't know anything but cooking and sewing!' it makes you want to learn anything and everything simply out of spite!"

Ben reached up and brushed her cheek with the back of a finger. "I can sympathize, Lissie, truly I can. Honestly, I do not understand why women cannot be educated as men are, because we are all human beings with the capacity to learn, and we should _all _be allowed to learn all we can about the world we live in."

"If only _all _men thought as you do, Ben," she said affectionately, almost sadly.

"I tell you this, my bride, whatever it is you wish to learn in life I will see to it that you learn it!" He sounded firm in this resolution.

Felicity chuckled gently. Ben pulled her other arm across his chest and caressed it absently. After a few minutes of silence he had actually dozed off, but then jerked himself awake when he felt Felicity's body shift under his head.

"Whazmatter?" he yawned.

Felicity grunted uncomfortably. "Ow. I think I'm sitting on a tree root! Which reminds me, by the way Ben Davidson, that for most of the nights I've been sleeping with you, you've been jabbing me in the rump with your knee."

There was another moment of silence, which was quite awkward for Ben, for his handsome face was turning bright red. "That, uh, was _not _my knee."

"Well it certainly wasn't your elbow!" Felicity laughed incredulously. "So unless you sleep with your cavalry pistol in your pants-" She quit mid-sentence, a new explanation having dawned upon her. One corner of Ben's mouth curled up and then she knew... "Oh! Oh my goodness..."

Ben squeezed his eyes shut and sat up straight, waiting to hear her express disgust and indignity, but it never came. Instead, he began to hear muffled snickering. Slowly, he turned around, mouth opening as he saw Felicity with a hand over _her _mouth, her shoulders shaking, and her eyes filled with the tears that came from the effort of trying to suppress outrageous laughter. "You're _laughing_?"

Felicity let her hand fall and the convulsive Haw-Haws burst forth in blissfull mirth. She hugged her ribs and bent forward, overcome with a mighty fit of hilarity. After a minute or so of the most ungentlewomanly snorting and woo-hooing Ben Davidson had ever heard (and couldn't help but guffaw a little himself at), she held up a protesting hand, sniffed through her laughter-tears and said, "Please-forgive me, Ben, I just couldn't help it! All along I thought it was your knee, and now I find out it's that-that- _tent-pole _of yours!"

" _'Tent-pole' _?" Ben exclaimed, grinning with eyebrows up, but Felicity had lapsed anew into savage cackles that startled the jays right out of the tree branches above them. "_That's _one I've never heard before!"

"'Twas the impression I had," Felicity sniffed and laughed, "when I saw you fresh out of the bathing tub that day!" She breathed deep, trying to calm herself down as Ben turned brilliant crimson.

He didn't quite know what to say, when knowing that it was usually the woman who shied away from innuendoes and suggestives, and here he was, red-faced and hot all over. Gentleme were not supposed to talk about things like this outside of marriage! But this was no ordinary girl, his Felicity. She was bold, she was outspoken, and she was forever taking every opportunity to express herself when other ladies would hide behind fans or even run in the opposite direction.

But her ferocious amusement helped to ease his tension, so he came close to her again, sitting so that he faced her. Despite his slight smile, his voice was actually timid. "I, uh, I am sorry about that, Lissie. I just can't help it sometimes." His smile widened, for her dazzling grin gave him courage. "'Tis _your _fault anyway, you wicked imp!"

"_My _fault?" Felicity repeated laughingly, clearly entertained by the notion that _she _was responsible for his manly trouble. "Now how did you come to _that _conclusion? How am _I _to blame for the condition of your- hee hee- _lightning rod_?" Tickled by her own slang, she cackled wildly.

"First 'tent-pole' and now 'lightning rod'?" Now Ben couldn't help but laugh, dumbfounded by the girl's audacious phrase-making. "Felicity Merriman, where did you learn such things?"

"Oh, honestly, Ben!" she giggled, shaking her head. "Did you really think that women only discuss recipies and sewing techniques when we get together? Or that the lives of women are so tedious and composed that it is not worth considering? When I was with the Patriot Ladies, we spoke of everything! Mrs. Trent was always telling me-" Here she put on a mock motherly-wise voice "-'You are coming of age, Miss Felicity, you need to learn about men and their ways! Best you listen to us so you'll know what you're in for!' So I did. I got all sorts of enlightenment from old married women, young married women, widows and the like." She leaned toward him. "So you see, Captain Davidson, there may be much about intimacy that I do not know, but I am not _completely naive_!" She laid aside his coat.

He leaned toward _her _in return. "So it would seem!"

Their faces were only inches apart. Felicity smiled slyly, shaking her head again. "Always underestimating me, are you? Or are you so distracted by the effect I have upon your _garden-tool _that you cannot think reasonably?"

Ben was just about to inform her how much his _'garden-tool' _was eager to begin planting _seeds _in her _garden _since he felt braver, but Felicity tapped his lips with a flirty finger and said, "Now _you _answer a question for _me_!"

"Anything. Ask it."

"When you kiss me, Ben, I feel so... _alive _and wanting. _Where _or _how _did you learn to kiss like that?" She was wary of an answer, but Merriman curiosity was too powerfull a thing to be denied.

Ben's smile turned as crafty as hers. "Truth be told, my child-bride, it does not take a philosopher to figure out how to kiss. I've seen people do it before- like your own parents, for example! 'Tis merely the result of being driven by passion and longing that makes a fellow's mouth do as it will...and the inspiration of the girl he wants to kiss!"

She moved back and eyed him suspiciously. In fact, her whole mood turned apprehensive. "The Patriot Ladies say 'tis normal for a woman to enter into marriage with her husband already knowledgeable in the bed-sport. That 'tis acceptable for the woman to know nothing so that she may be 'instructed' in the ways of intimacy by her already learned husband...and that it is just the way of things."

Ben, too, grew serious. It was all too clear just where she was headed with this...

"Have you...already ..._been _with a woman, Ben?" Not only did she fear the answer, but added to that fear was a great deal of worry. Indeed, there was a lump of jumbled emotion in her windpipe, and the look of dreadful anticipation clouded her emerald eyes.

Ben sighed, pulled his knees up to his chest so that he could put his arms around them. His voice when he replied was full of tension. "No."

Felicity's breath came out in a _whoosh _of intense relief. Stress left her shoulders and she slumped back against the tree trunk. "I am thankful for that, Ben. You see, I was hoping that...we might...learn those things together."

"You believe I had not thought of that as well?" His voice had softened, but still held the tension in it. "But 'tis not like I did not have opportunities to learn without you, Lissie." (She sat up rigid again, frowning) Ben snapped off a blade of pale grass and toyed with it absently. "Sometimes there would be these women who would come out to the camps..."

"Whores," stated Felicity darkly.

"Aye, that they were." His voice was uncomfortingly tight, and he could not look directly at her. "They would come out to the camps looking to please the men in exchange for...whatever they could get. Money, rum, food...just whatever. Some of them were even with child. They mainly sought the attentions of ranked men, like captains, lieutenants and sergeants. Anyway, there was a woman who approached me not long after I'd been made Captain, and I admit I had been drinking a lot that evening, so I was rather full of myself, what with our latest victory, and I was so close to taking her up on her offer...but I couldn't." He stared at the ground intensely. "She had red hair. Like yours. I-I kept thinking of _you_, Lissie. _Your _hair. _Your _face. I thought of you here in Williamsburg, worrying about me, not knowing where I was or _how _I was, and I just couldn't do it."

Felicity swallowed and said somberly, "Men have needs, Ben. They reach a certain age and they are expected to satisfy their curiosities one way or the other. You are surely no different than any other man."

"Maybe, maybe not," he replied quietly. "But other men do not have _you _in their lives."

"You could have bedded that woman, Ben, and I would never have to know..."

He nodded absently. "But _I _would have known. How could I return to you worthy of your love and trust if I committed an act of lust with someone I don't even care a whit for? Your father told us that we are not obliged to each other, but I just can't help but feel that we _are_, and I kept faithful to that."

"Ben, you do not have to marry me just because you feel 'obliged'. No one is forcing you to. You are still free to explore your options if you so wish." She looked fearful, but in her heart she knew she would want Ben to be assured of his choice.

"No, Lissie, I do _not _want to court other women!" He moved close to her again, took her gently but firmly by the shoulders. "I told you that, and I will keep telling you that until you fully understand it. Hell, I don't even have the desire to bed _any _woman but you! You want to know what happened that evening with the whore? I pretended to pass out from drunkeness-which would've happened eventually, anyway-and she rooted through my pockets but didn't find anything to her advantage, so she swore at me and left. I got around to getting up off the ground, and went into the bushes, where I relieved myself in the way that men do when their desires get the better of them in a pinch- _and I was thinking of you all the while."_

Felicity's green eyes went wide, having gone from near-disappointment to awe in seconds. "You mean...you actually spilt your seed...thinking about _me_?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he admitted with a half-smile. His hands left her shoulders and moved down her arms to take hold of her hands. "I told you, Lissie, you do not know what beauty like yours does to a man. That's why you should know before we're married that...I don't think that I can be gentle with you. Do you know what I mean? Damnation, I don't think I _can _wait until our wedding night!"

"Is it _that _bad?" Felicity inquired, her gaze uncontrollably drifiting down to a particular area of his anatomy.

"Aye," he breathed uncomfortably. "'Tis _that _bad."

"Hmmm," she mused, her mood becoming light again. "Seems to be..." she craned her neck "-rather _tight _down there."

Ben blushed profusely, grinned helplessly. "Told you 'tis _your _fault."

Considering all that had just passed betwen them, she once again leaned forward to him, toying with the buttons on his waistcoat. Coyly she asked, "You said that you do not think that you can be gentle with me. What then, Ben Davidson, do you believe you will be _doing _to me?" She was very much intrigued by the possibility of his answers.

"God, Lissie..." He gulped, dazed by her forward question, but then it was not all that surprising. She was, after all, Felicity. He sighed heavily. "Girl, the things that I would do to you should not be spoken of aloud. There are things that I want to do to you that a decent man would deem unholy."

A shiver of wicked delight cascaded down Felicity Merriman's spine. "Like _what_?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he told her once again, mindfully. "Are you by any chance _afraid _of what I will do to you?" This time he had the playful tone back in his voice.

"HA! How can I be afraid of something I know little about! Still think me dumb as a stump, eh? Well! Since you obviously lack the capacity for detail in your amorous teasing, then I absolutely refuse to drop the matter until you can tell me at least _some _of the things you have in store for me!"

"You truly want to know some of my sordid thoughts about you, little seductress?" His eyes flicked over her, the lust and hunger evident in his eyes, but a sneaky smile upon his face. "Have it your way, then. I think about ripping that blasted corset right off of you, for starters."

"Go right ahead!" she dared shamelessly, her eyes showing no fear, her grin challenging. "Is that _all _you think you'll do?"

"By no means! I am going to rid your beautiful body of every stitch of clothing you're wearing and lay you down naked upon my bed- no, _our _bed- and _then _I am going to ravish away your innocence, as it will not only be my first priority as a husband, but a genuine pleasure in just the _unspeakable _pleasure it will give me!"

Instead of gasping in shock and sending his head spinning round his neck with a mighty slap like an outraged gentlewoman should have, she put her fists upon her hips and appealed, "What about _me_? Am I not to get any pleasure out of this- this- _bed-play_?"

Ben laughed hard, having to clutch his stomach. He could easily see the giggle just waiting to escape Felicity's luscious, pink pouty mouth. "Oh, I fully intend for you to be pleasured, my beauty!" But in his head, the voice of his conscious was saying, _Remember that the loss of virginity can be painful for a girl, so the first time is not always that pleasurable for her... _He sombered up immediately, reaching for her so that he could sit her between his legs there upon the checkered quilt and hug her to him from behind. Oh, she was such a huggable, comforting body to hold! Her sweet sigh of contentment at being encased in his muscled arms was just as much heart-gripping as it was arousing.

"You-You know I'd never hurt you, Lissie, don't you? Not-not _willingly_. I mean, I could never just-"

"If you are referring to deflowering me on our wedding night," interrupted she smoothly, her voice possessing an eerie wisdom that took him again by surprise, "then you must take comfort in knowing that I've been told what to expect already. There will be some measure of pain on my part, I'm aware of that. And if you think about it, which I can see that you have-" She pressed back against him amorously "-it _is _the taking of one's virginity, the loss of one's innocence. Such an act would not be without consequence, reasonably."

"But I cannot be gentle with you, Felicity; I'm like a wolf all pent up in a cage about to go mad! But yet the thought of hurting you even _unintentionally _is so agonizing!"

"It won't be all bad, my soldier-groom." She sounded remarkably grown-up and self-assured. "'Tis the making of a girl into a woman, a boy into a man, by the age-old ritual of marriage consumation."

Ben smiled. "Girl, you never cease to amaze me. You sound like you should be teaching at the college."

"Oh, indeed!" She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Classes on intimacy! Could you just imagine that?"

His parted lips brushed her sensitive ear. "Why, I imagine you in _plenty _of ways, little seductress."

She cackled spiritedly again. "You are not the only one who is allowed to have such thoughts, you know."

"Oh?" He cocked his head, enraptured by the graceful shape of her neck and shoulder beneath his chin. "Why don't you tell me about the things that _you _imagine?"

"You mean you'd actually like to hear about my imagining what it would be like to wrap my legs around you and for you to touch me in places that I rarely touch myself?" She was staring up at the clear blue autumn sky when she felt Ben's mouth at the curve of her neck and her eyelids fluttered helplessly shut.

"Aye," he growled wantonly.

"And what it would feel like to have your body upon mine...without clothing? Or the sensations of your hands and mouth all over me?"

"Sweet Jesus, Lissie...what you are doing to me..."

She turned about in the confines of his arms, smiling with such devilish seduction as she pushed him down and back on the blanket that all he could do was stare at her in awe. Huskily she said "You are _not _the only one who feels the way you do. I'm no child anymore, Ben Davidson. I too have needs."

"So help me, girl, you are playing a dangerous game. I loved you as a child, but loving you as a woman is already knocking the breath out of me." Yet he did not resist in the slightest when she grasped his wrists and held them down above his head on the blanket. The weight of her was on him and it was all he could do to not start reacting sexually.

"'Game'?" inquired she, her face over his, her eyelashes framing empowered eyes. "Only children play games, Ben. _We _are to be married. If you insist on calling our _love-act _a game, then you must understand that there are no losers." _Her _parted lips drew down his nose, kissed the hyper-sensitive place between it and his upper lip. He _had _to react then, to move, to _feel_. She allowed him to move his arms, and he gripped the back of her head as he kissed her _hard_. Thrusting his tongue in and out in a slow, heated rhythm very much the way his _tent-pole _ached to do with her body.

She released a throaty moan of pleasure, which did nothing but add to Ben's already raging desire. She was very much enjoying the intense pressure of their kissing, the way Ben worked his mouth with hers, that she was about to give in to the mad frenzy of sensuality when her knee slid slowly over his groin.

"Oh God, Lissie..."

"Is that- that's your...!" Her knee came slowly back. Despite shift, petticoat and gown, she could still feel the rock-hard bulge of his manhood. Hard like a rock. She could not help it: she snickered.

Ben dropped his head back on the blanket. "Splendid! I'm in erotic agony and _she's _laughing!" he moaned to the sky.

"I'm sorry, truly I am," she laughed still, taking his face into her hands. "I just find it a wonder that I affect you like that!" She moved half off of him to look down at his groin. "My, my, would you just look at that..."

"Hey, come back," Ben almost-whined.

"Nay, I believe I won't." She patted his closest upper thigh. "Methinks I have done enough torture to you today."

Ben was about to protest this, when a familiar voice called out, "Here now! What have we here? What kind of a world is this where a man can be savaged by ruthless Amazons!" 'Twas Arthur, returning with a grinning Elizabeth. Arthur's usually well-groomed wavy blond hair was mussed, his queue askew.

Felicity cracked up, laughing wildly as she moved off of Ben completely. Ben quickly scrambled to his feet, muttering, "I'll be back in a moment. I just need to- I have to- uh, bushes." And as his friends stared after him, he stumbled into the trees and shrubbery still mumbling incoherently.

Elizabeth giggled. "Now whatever is wrong with Ben?"

"'Twould seem that I have affected him. Again," Felicity grinned as she smoothed out her skirts and patted her mobcap. "My poor soldier-groom just needed to, ah, tend to his _affliction_."

"Felicity, Arthur and I just had the most glorious idea!" Elizabeth plopped down on the checkered blanket in front of her friend as Arthur sat down beside her, scooting their basket out of the way. "What if the four of us were married on the same day?"

"You mean the four of us all marry one another and live in the same big house together?" Felicity joked.

"Hahahahahaha! No, really." Elizabeth grinned brightly. "I'm talking of a double-wedding!"

"Aye, I know what you mean," said Felicity jovially. "I have heard of such things before. As wonderful as that sounds, though, Ben and I would never want to intrude on your and Arthur's special day. After all, the two of you have been practically engaged since the day you met! 'Tis only right that you have the day to yourselves. I want to help make it the most wonderful day of your lives!"

"Oh, Lissie, you dear love!" Elizabeth leaned forward and hugged the radient red-head happily. "And I will help your and Ben's day be just as special!"

"Lightning has struck!" declared Arthur, slapping his knees as the two girls stared at him, statled. "I just had a thought! Would it not be glorious if our children grew up to marry Benjamin and Lissie's children?"

Elizabeth gasped, her blue eyes simply dancing. "Why, Arthur, what an absolutely _divine _notion! Just think of that, Lissie! _Our _sons and daughters marrying with _your _sons and daughters!"

Felicity inhaled deeply, half-chuckling and half taken by surprise. "Whoosh! That does sound like a most amazing thing! Pratts and Davidsons. Then we will all _truly _be family! Elizabeth, that would be so heavenly!"

"Sounds like a plan!" added Arthur, giddy with excitement. "We shall repopulate Williamsburg with our progenies!"

"Start a whole new species!" cried Felicity in amusement.

"Superior in wit, but lacking in logic!" continued Arthur.

"All but the girls, that is," Elizabeth put in slyly.

Ben emerged from the greenery looking wobbly and drained, somewhat shaken, nearly stumbling as he was adjusting the waist of his breeches. The three on the blanket stared at him expectantly as he dropped down beside Felicity and asked tiredly, "Did I miss something?"

"In a way," Felicity told him in good humor, moving her forearms out of the way as Ben's head came back down onto her lap for attention. "We were just discussing how Elizabeth and Arthur's children were going to marry yours and mine."

"Oh. That's nice." Ben closed his eyes and pulled her arm across his chest.

"My poor, _spent _soldier," soothed Felicity, trying not to laugh at his having been afflicted. "My wiles have emptied him."

"'Wiles'?" inquired Arthur Pratt, mystified.

Felicity leaned over Ben's handsome face and kissed his forehead tenderly. "Aye. I don't know what they are, but women have them. Mrs. Trent says they are used to lure, befuddle and seduce men."

Ben smiled drowzily.

Arthur looked at Elizabeth and smiled brightly. "You too, seem to possess these 'wiles', my flower!"

"Whatever they are, I shall make good use of them!" Elizabeth informed him, giving him a peck on the nose.

Later that afternoon, the four friends packed up the basket, rolled up the checkered blanket, and strolled back to Duke of Gloucester Street with happy hearts and minds full of plans for their futures. 'Twas decided among the two couples that Elizabeth and Arthur would most certainly marry first, then Felicity and Ben on Janurary 6th, which was Twelfth Night. With Arthur unsure of his future as a scholar-or as he put it, a 'scholarly jeweler', Ben was struck with a sudden, marvellous idea to create a joint business with the astonished blond Brit, where Davidson's store would feature Arthur Pratt's skillfull jewelry-smithing. Ben said he could imagine luring in many customers to see the fine metalworking of the Pratt family, seeing how Arthur's family had suffered from lack of business the past few years. Needless to say, Felicity and Elizabeth were tickled witless at the prospect of their men working together.

"So, what think you, Arthur Pratt?" Ben wanted to know as the four of them slowly ambled past the Raleigh Tavern.

The spark of great enthusiasm was evident in Arthur's deep blue eyes. "'Tis a _superb _plan, young Benjamin! Why I'm as giddy as a cuckoo in April! 'Twould be an honor to embark on a business venture with a man of the Legion!"

Ben reddened quite deeply.

"Don't you mean a 'business _ad_venture'?" Felicity asked, ever on the lookout for jokes and puns (much to Elizabeth's delight).

They laughed together gayly, the four of them all a-chatter, ultimately unaware of the two figures that had just emerged from the Tavern. Reginald Forsythe, ever accompanied by the expressionless Smedley, had exited the popular building while reading the letter that had been delivered there for his pick-up. The letter was not one of good news. As a matter of fact, the contents of the letter only added to Forsythe's state of aggitation. He crumpled the parchment in his hand and clenched his teeth. "Damnation, Smedley! Nothing is going my way and I'm getting bloody tired of waiting for my orders to be carried out!"

"Given the amount of thought that you have put into these 'arrangements,' my lord," advised the butler, looking as though he could care less, "perhaps you could have forseen the delays that you would inevitably meet with a _war _being waged."

"'Tis all too true," sighed the young lord stressfully as he crammed the now useless letter into the inner pocket of his velvet maroon coat. "There is, at this time, nothing I can do about the news from New York, but I can at least keep my appointment with my source." He restiffened his posture and gripped the gre hound-headed walking stick with determination. "That will at least let me know where things stand with my Felicity."

Bothered exasperatingly by his young master's obsession with the shop-keeper's daughter, sixty-three year old Smedley opened his mouth to point out that the defiant Felicity Merriman had shown absolutely no interest in standing anywhere _near _a Forsythe, much less _with _one, but Reginald suddenly grew paler than usual, his small hazel eyes widening to their extreme limits.

"Smedley...look there! Is that-that-?"

"My lord?" inquired the older man, puzzled.

Forsythe gripped the arm of his butler so fast and so hard that it took the aging Smedley by surprise. For someone unaccustomed to exercise and hard labor, the young lord had a ferocious hold. "There, Smedley! With his arm about the waist of my intended!"

Smedley looked, blinked unaffectedly. "'Twould appear that it is Mr. Edward Merriman's apprentice, my lord. No longer a soldier, it would seem."

"And most unfortunately _alive_," bristled Forsythe, his rounding cheeks going from pale to fury-based crimson. "_Most _unfortunately."

Smedley glanced at his young master and cocked an eyebrow.

"This will not do. Oh no, this will not do at _all_." Forsythe seemed to be mumbling more to himself than to the butler. "I was counting on his death at the hands of our countrymen. But since he has slipped out of the noose of war, he will have to be dealt with another way." He rubbed his chin in absent thought.

"Surely you do not mean to duel him, my lord." A flicker of worry passed the older man's usually bored countenance. "He is a former soldier, most likely skilled in markmanship. 'Tis known that the men of Lee's Legion-"

"I know that, Smedley, confound you!" snapped Forsythe wrathfully. "Just as surely as I know that he and his fellow rebel bastards decieved innocent Loyalist militiamen into thinking that they were Banastre Tarleton's men and proceeded to slay damn near all of them! You think I am ignorant to the unruly fighting tactics of these Patriot rebels?"

"Of course not, my lord," replied Smedley smoothly. He glanced about them, for the rising of the young lord's tone had produced a few curious looks from other men-Patriots, no doubt-coming out of the tavern. "Do keep a low voice, sir. We do not wish a confrontation with, as you put it, the rebel bastards."

Forsythe raised his chin haughtily. His eyes were still on Ben and Felicity, who had stopped with their companions beneath one of Duke of Gloucester Streets stately goldening elms to laugh about something. Then Ben Davidson, with an amorous, slanting smile, picked up the giggling Felicity by the waist, swung her around, then put her back down on her feet, giving her a hard kiss on the mouth. Actions which enraged Reginald Forsythe all the more.

"The girl is being exposed to the most uncivil of behaviors," he muttered with extreme distaste (and utter jealousy). "Naturally, that sort of upbringing is to be expected in these unsophistocated colonies, but _I _can remedy that!"

Smedley clasped his hands behind his back. "The colonies, my lord?"

"Nay, lackwit, the _girl_!"

"Ah."

Forsythe tapped the walking stick's tip on the ground impatiently. "If only my orders had been carried out within the time I expected! No matter now. I shall make her into the lady of society that she was meant to be."

Smedley pursed his thin lips, a look of actual doubt in his tired eyes. "She will definately fight you, my lord."

"Oh, tish-tosh!" Forsythe waved his hand dismissively at the notion. "Young girls never do know what is right for them. It is therefore up to men of good grooming and education to put them on the right path to fine living and etiquette!"

"You mean to make her into the likenes of Miss Lucile." 'Twas not a question Smedley was asking, but a suspicious statement of what he considered to be the eerily obvious.

Forsythe finally turned to his butler. "See here, old man, there will be no mention of Miss Lucile in disrespect _or _ill thought! I will not have it! See how much Felicity Merriman already resembles Miss Lucille in body and spirit? What else is there to do but give proper instruction in decorum befitting a proper lady? This, I assure you, I can do."

"But, my lord...to be going to such lengths." Smedley looked increasingly troubled.

"'Twill be worth it in the end." Forsythe gritted his teeth and stared with boiling hatred at the ex-cavalry captain. "But first I will remove all obstacles."  
Smedley rolled his eyes.

Forsythe watched seethingly as Felicity Merriman took Ben Davidson's face into her loving hands and kissed him on the mouth in return with much gusto. Hard. Then the four friends began walking on, enaging in the most warm and lively of conversations.

The young lord's nerves apparently snapped. He brought the walking stick's tip down hard on the dirt, wheeled to face the startled butler, and cried, "Tomorrow I meet with my informer! But as of this moment, Smedley, I _order _you-" And here he took hold of the older man's lapels "-_get me the Gooch_!"

Chapter FINISHED

*By endurance we conquer  
**I yield to a greater person


	23. Chapter 19: Fair Warnings

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2 CH.19: Fair Warnings

Sound the bells, it's that time again! No, not New Years, I meant it's DISCLAIMER TIME! I own nothing, I know nothing. I can prove both.

Chapter 18, in which Forsythe has an ally and the future begins to look grim.

_The_ _clouds never expect it when it rains,  
But the sea changes colors  
But the sea _does not change  
_So, with the slow, graceful flow of age,  
I went forth with an age-old desire to please  
On the edge of seventeen  
Just like the white-winged dove sings a song  
Sounds like she's singing oooh baby, oooh, said oooh  
- _lines from 'Edge of Seventeen' by one of the best girl-power singers in the history of the world EVER, Stevie Nicks

Felicity Merriman could not remember when she'd been so happy and excited. She was ecstatic for her best friend, who's wedding seemed likely to take place in early November. After all, Washington and the combined armies had Cornwallis practically cornered in Yorktown without the hope of reinforcements arriving in time to help him. Then the much anticipated wedding of Elizabeth Cole to Arthur Pratt would come to fruition. The gown was finished. Festivities and food had already been thought through. All that remained was the appropriate signal.

Felicity was filled to the brim with imaginings for her own wedding. She definately wanted a new gown for the occasion, and Elizabeth was alreaady spouting ideas. But even as heart-racing as thoughts of colors and cakes and invitations were, no thought pulsed more intensely than that of becoming Ben Davidson's wife.

_A wife!_

She marvelled over how it seemed like just yesterday that she was sneaking out of the house in the mornings to go work with Penny. Learning to stitch at Ms. Manderly's house. Running around Grandfather's plantation with Nan and William. Now she was engaged to be married at the ripe age of sixteen! And not to just any typical lad, but to the handsome former apprentice, now ex-cavalry captain, Ben Davidson! Beloved friend of her childhood. Her very first, and only, love.

Thoughts like these whirled about in her mind as she walked along Duke of Gloucester Street the day after the picnic, on her way to her father's store to bring him, Ben, Marcus and Mr. Haverty a batch of her very own fresh cornbread muffins. She had to admit to herself that she was a pretty darn good baker after all. She still needed help in the preparing of meat dishes, but even Ms. Manderly was amazed by how fast she had taken to baking. Ben was always eager for seconds and even thirds of her baked goodies, but when he slipped into the kitchen when she was in there working alone, and put his strong arms around her from behind then whispered into her ear "I cannot _wait _to taste your delicacies," Felicity humorously doubted he was speaking of _food_.

Thinking of Ben and his amorous innuendoes had her grinning rather goonishly...until she looked on down the road toward her father's store, that is. She came to an abrupt halt, her grin fading fast into a frown, for just outside Merriman's Store stood the loathsome Reginald Forsythe, talking to none other than her own sister, Nan.

Felicity's first impulse was to barrel up to the short, odious fop and put her fist into his face, but her very own logic demanded that she not. She wanted to run over and yank Nan away, for it was her fear that since Forsythe could not have his first choice he was attempting to snare the younger sister. Neither Nan nor Forsythe were smiling or wearing pleasant expressions, and that served to increase Felicity's worry. _Why on earth is he talking to my Nan? This cannot be good. I MUST know what this is about!_

She was going to get to find out, for Nan and Forsythe parted ways, the strange young lord going into the store, and Nan walking toward home, towards Felicity, who quickened her pace, making a dart-line for her sister, who stopped upon seeing her and waited patiently.

"Nan!" Felicity panted, taking the girl's nearest hand urgently. "What in the world was Reginald Forsythe doing with you? Did he make advances on you? Did he harass you, or-"

"Lissie, Lissie, do calm down," Nan interrupted gently, looking more troubled than anything else. "I am fine. Lord Forsythe neither harassed nor bothered me- much, that is."

Felicity did not attempt to hide her anxiety. "Then why was he talking to you? Was it about me? He is always lurking around these days as if he was waiting for something. I'll wager that it _was _about me!"

"Well..." began Nan, looking nervous then, turning her head to watch people walking or riding by them. "He _did _inquire about you..."

"Ah-ha! I knew it! What is he up to? Tell me, Nan! And why do you look so uncertain?"

"Because I do not like him, Lissie, you already know that." Nan met her sister's apprehensive, wide-eyed stare with hesitant blue eyes. "He unnerves me. Rich English Lord or not, he has the eyes of a predator." She shuddered uncontrollably.

"Then, Nan, whyever did you let him block your path?"

"I was coming out of the store- I just got off the steps and he was coming toward them. He knows me by sight now. He just wanted chit-chat."

Felicity shook her red head, flatly refusing to believe anything to be simple where Reginald Forsythe was concerned. "No, Nan, he wants _more_. Now answer me: did he say anything to you about wanting to court _you_?" She gripped one of Nan's shoulders with her free hand.

"No."

"Did he say anything about wanting to cause trouble for me, Ben, or our family?"

"No."

Felicity dropped her arm and looked frustrated. "Then what _did _he want?"

Nan sighed stressfully. "He asked me about _your _health, _my _health, the health of our family in _general_, to which I replied all is fine and well, and he wished me a good day. He said that he would be leaving for the North before the end of the year, and then I wished _him _well. Like I said, Lissie, I dislike him immensely, but I treated the situation as a gentlewoman would; with civility and prudence." Her fingers fidgeted as if they had wills of their own, and her gaze fell to the side. "'Twas not as if we had arranged a run-in, you know."

Felicity, too, sighed, too preoccupied with Forsythe's presence to notice Nan's distractedness. "Well...perhaps there really wasn't any hidden motive to his exchanging pleasantries with you. After all, we are bound to run into the turtle as long as he is here." She tapped her chin in suspicious thought. "But I've never seen him speak to anyone unless he was being devious about something."

"Felicity," Nan said wearily, "you know Father would never let that contemptable man harm you."

"Nor would Ben."

Nan crinkled her mouth. "Well, perhaps, but that remains to be seen."

Felicity tilted her head appealingly. "Oh Nan, of course Ben is protective of me, he always has been. Not that I actually _need _protecting, mind you. I can use a pistol and I can kick just as good as any donkey!" This attempt at humor did not phase her sister at all. "Look, Nan, I can handle Forsythe. I am not afraid of him. His behavior gives me the galloping shudders but I do not fear him."

"I know. It does indeed take a great deal to frighten _you_." Nan at least _attempted _to smile.

"And I know that you still do not trust Ben," Felicity said kindly. "But I love him. He makes me happy. We belong to each other, we always have."

"Funny," Nan observed dryly, "I did not imagine _you _'belonging' to anyone."

She did not mean it the insulting way, but more in the _admirable _way. Felicity understood this and nodded. "With Ben I have the freedom to choose whom I give my heart to, and I have always felt that my heart belonged to him. God may have my soul, but my mind belongs to _me_. 'Tis _my _domain, and what a wicked one it is!" Nan looked jolted by that statement, so Felicity chuckled and added, "Well, what I mean is that no one could handle my brains better than I. After all, they are in _my _head!"

Nan smiled thinly.

"I would rather be dead than be married to Forsythe," Felicity continued, glaring at the spot where the fop had been standing with disgust. "I'd rather be a dried up spinster with a house full of cats!"

"Ick," Nan winced.

This time it was Felicity who sighed. She gripped the handle of her basket and said, "I am taking these to Ben, Father and Marcus, and Mr. Haverty if he has not left already. Just because there is a weasel in our father's store does not mean I cannot be kept out of it. Are you all right, Nan?"

"Of course, yes." Nan still seemed strangely distracted, however. "But I can tell you that Marcus is out making a delivery, and Father is in his back room talking to an important-looking man who might just be Father's new supplier. Let us hope that he will be."

"Aye," Felicity breathed, a bit distracted herself. "Well, I'm going on. See you at home."

"Of course." Nan tried to make herself smile again, but her own eyes betrayed her with a look of guilt that Felicity obviously was not catching. The sisters parted ways, with Nan biting her bottom lip and staring at the ground intensely, as though she had just gotten herself into something that she knew not what to make of, and Felicity glared straight ahead at their father's store as though she was readying herself for battle instead of entering into one of her most favorite places.

Nan looked back over her shoulder at her sister's back, then quickened her pace, feeling a sudden need to be home by the kitchen fire...where she could sort out her thoughts. And she was thinking how Reginald Forsythe didn't want Felicity to marry Ben any more than Nan herself did not. But Reginald Forsythe would not take no for an answer, and was resorting to a very low tactic. _That _had Nan very, very worried.

While Felicity was talking to her sister, Forsythe had gone into Merriman's Store to purchase, of all things, licorice sticks. But his _main _intention was, of course, to provoke. His 'delays' in New York and Smedley being 'tasked' at the moment, left him with a golden opportunity to (as he considered it) 'plant some seeds.' The store was busy today, almost like it used to be before Cornwallis came. With the armies gone for the present, people needed to replenish supplies in the worst way. Merriman's had a little more than the other stores had, so therefore there was a room with enough people in it to keep Mr. Merriman and his troublesome apprentice from turning nasty on him.

He stepped right in like he owned the place, and indeed no one noticed him. Not right away, that is. Mr. Caleb Haverty was dusting some low-hanging shelves when he just happened to glance around and espy a pair of elaborately gold embroidered man's shoes with higher-than-average heels. Without having to give it much thought, Haverty knew exactly whom the fancy shoes, skinny white-stockinged legs, knobby knees and rich beige breeches belonged to. Haverty straightened with a grunt and frowned; it was the fop-a-doodle in all of his prissy, overdone glory, with a gold-trimmed, feather-tipped tricorn on his long curly wigged head.

Feeling a sense of foreboding, Haverty stepped over to the counter, where Ben had his back turned replacing a box of snuff, and muttered, "Trouble's here."

"Huh?" Ben turned around, saw Forsythe gazing around the room with a smirk on his face. Immediately Ben's expression turned dark. His first impulse was to stride over to the fop and put a fist into the rounding face, and he _did _actually take a start before stopping due to the fact that there were six or seven other people browsing in the store. It would not do to create a scene.

Even _if _Mr. Merriman wouldn't mind.

Even _as _the thought of Forsythe attempting to bribe Mr. Merriman for Felicity enraged him to the bone, his militant discipline was the only thing that kept him from throttling the fop in a room occupied by potentially paying customers. As he passed Mr. Haverty, he muttered lowly, "I'll take care of him."

"Heh!" Haverty grunted in return. "I'll just wager you will." Sensing that the browsers in the store would eventually need someone to assist them, if not _distract _them, he quickly stowed the feather duster under the counter and moved out.

Small hazel eyes locked with blazing brown ones as Ben came right up to Forsythe and said with clenched teeth so only the young lord could hear, "I ought to turn you inside out."

Reginald cocked an eyebrow amusedly, placed both beige-gloved hands over the greyhound-head of the walking stick. "And a very pleasant day to you, too, _Captain _Davidson. I see Mr. Merriman has demoted you back to the rank of apprentice. Could the Patriot Army not afford to keep you any longer?"

"Get out, Forsythe, while you still have the broomsticks to walk on," Ben growled.

"Tisk-tisk, Captain!" The young lord's uppity, taunting tone was tinged with provocation, as he had intended it to be. "Clearly, your Patriot officers did not instruct you in civil behavior, but then one cannot expect very much from an army that cannot even feed and clothe its own."

Ben stepped close, bristling with anger, feeling that it was God alone who kept him from snapping Forsythe's neck. "If one doesn't shut one's mouth, I'm liable to get violent with one." He jerked his head at the door. "Get out. Now."

"Nay. I think I shant." Smiling cockily, Reginald stepped past the tempered former-apprentice, looked about the room as though he was being entertained, and moved to the counter to lean against it. "I have money to be spent in here. Things being the way they are, we both know that there is not a single business in this pathertic little town that can afford to turn away a profit."

Ben turned around and glared menacingly at him. "Mr. Merriman doesn't _want _your money, your business, your presence or anything else where you're concerned. There is nothing for you here, and that _includes _Felicity!"

"Ah, heard about that, did you?" Forsythe smiled crookedly, clearly enjoying the maddening effect he was having on the brooding ex-soldier. "I merely offered your master financial help in exchange for his daughter's hand in marriage-'tis not an uncommon arrangement, you know. And Felicity would benefit far greater being married to me than to you. Women enjoy being spoiled. She only needs the opportunity to understand that."

Ben's fists clenched. "Like hell! Felicity doesn't want anything to do with you, Forsythe, and I only need the opportunity to make you understand that with a sound thrashing! Felicity and _I _will be married in January. You _did _know that, didn't you?"

Forsythe's smirk faded.

Ben now revelled in _his _sudden opportunity to be the one to gloat. He folded his arms over his chest and donned _his _strutting, superior smile. Though he still possessed the limp, he strolled behind the counter rather smoothly and said, "Oh, surely you know that by now! _Everybody _knows! Hell, everybody knows Felicity and I belong together. She's mine; always has been, always will be. Sorry, old fellow, but you're just going to have to go hime to your auntie and cry."

Forsythe's fury made his neck turn red. His hazel eyes narrowed. His voice was low but it carried so that only Ben could hear. "You have not won, Davidson. Not by any means."

Ben puffed his chest out and applied his best smirk. "There is no contest, Forsythe. Felicity is mine."

"Delusional rebel," scoffed the young lord. "I'll be damned if I just step aside and yield to the likes of you."

"Fine. Then damned you are. There's nothing that you can do about it." Ben shrugged indifferently.

"That, Mr. Davidson, is the most incorrect statement to ever issue forth from your mouth. Something, I can assure you, is alreaady being _done_."

Ben narrowed _his _eyes. "And what, I dare ask, do you mean by that?"

The superior, cunning sneer slowly reappeared on the rounding face of the young lord from Bristol. "You'll soon see, rebel. But then, knowing you, you will not realize what is happening until it has already happened."

Nearing his breaking point, Ben leaned across the counter on his braced hands. "If you come within spitting distance of Felicity, mark me, you'll regret ever having _left _England!"

Forsythe sighed and said softly, "All brawn and no brain. No wonder this will be easy."

"_What _will be easy?"

"You will soon see," Forsythe said again softly. "_After _the fact, that is. Now do be a good apprentice and fetch me five sticks of black licorice." He dropped coins on the counter between Ben's braced hands.

Ben opened his mouth to holler something foul, flinched uncontrollably in his need to reach across the counter top and grab the fop by the overly-frilly cravat, but Mr. Haverty had stepped up to the counter beside of him with the licorice jar and put a firm restraining hand on his shoulder. "Don't lad," he cautioned in a grumble. "Not here. Not now."

Glaring at the pleasantly smiling lord, Ben pulled back stiffly.

Haverty sat the jar down on the counter and muttered to Forsythe, "You can get 'em yourself, boy."

Forsythe raised an eyebrow, amused. "I want them wrapped."

"It'll cost you extra," Mr. Haverty stated, folding his arms. It was a lie, of course, for Edward Merriman _never _charged extra for the wrapping of a parcel, but what Edward Merriman did not know at the present, Haverty mused, would not necessarily hurt him.

"I do not recall parcel-wrapping being extra at this establishmnent," Forsythe pointed out defiantly.

"What are you going to do, complain to the _owner_?" Mr. Haverty _harrumphed _challengingly."When he sees who's doin' the complainin', he'll wrap _you _up in a parcel and send you back to Bristol!"

Ben chuckled maliciously. "You know how things are these days, Forsythe! There isn't a single business in town that isn't looking to make a profit!"

Forsythe had to exert verbal restraint, for he knew he was definately no physical match for the built ex-cavalry captain, or even the aging but burly Caleb Haverty. He reminded himself that Ben Davidson would soon be 'taken care of'' by someone who _was _of a physical nature, and therefore it was best just to let them have their last laughs. "Oh, very well, have your fun...while it lasts." He plunked down more coins, smiling secretively.

"Look, boy," Haverty cautioned as he pulled out a sheet of brown wrapping paper, "whatever it is that you've got brewin' in your conk, you best just forget about it and leave the Merriman girl alone. She's spoken for, understand? Not that there's anything _you _can do about it, mind you. Now wrap up your lickish and go."

Forsythe smirked again, but his cunning hazel eyes were on Ben. "All of you Patriots think you know best." He rolled up the sticks of black licorice with smooth movements. "Ah, well, you cannot say that you were not warned."

"Warned?" Ben looked as if he were about to leap across the counter top. "All you do is haunt this town, watch Felicity and wear on people's nerves! What do you intend to do, stare her to death? As if there is anything you can do! You're weak, spoiled and talk too much nonsense for your own good. Now leave before I boot you out myself!"

Ben's loud voice finally attracted the attention of the suddenly quiet store browsers. Caleb Haverty glanced around the room, then said to Forsythe lowly, "You best leave _now_."

"Very well, old man. My business here is finished." He looked at Ben as though the former-apprentice's obliviousness to his plans was about to crack him up. "You will not be marrying Felicity," he warned softly, with a cock of his long-wigged head. "You might even find yourself _not _wanting to."

"Right, that's it!" Ben cried, his nerves snapping. He tried scrambling past Mr. Haverty, who grabbed him by the shoulders and kept the seething young cavalry captain behind the counter. Despite Mr. Haverty struggling with him, Ben raged, "You so much as try anything and I'll kill you, you hear me? You even try coming back into this _store_, and I'll-"

"_Ben_!" Haverty hissed in his nearest ear. "Calm the hell down, boy! Save it for outside!"

Grimacing angrily, Ben stopped struggling (which relieved Mr. Haverty, who's back was not in the best of condition these days). Forsythe smiled his falsely pitying smile and turned to leave...but was immediately halted by Felicity standing there, frowning hard as she gripped her basket's handle with white knuckles.

Instantly, the boundaries between fantasy and reality blurred magnificently in the mind and eyes of Reginald Forsythe, who blinked rapldly, one moment seeing Miss Lucille Elswick, and in another moment seeing Felicity Merriman. _who astonishingly favored Miss Lucille Elswick. _"Lucille?" he blurted unthinkingly. "Felicity?"

"Yes, Mr. Forsythe, it is me," Felicity replied stiffly. "My father does'nt want you in here anymore, and niether do I. And stay away from my sister if you value your life at all."

Ben was quick to get to her side, glaring viciously at Forsythe as he pulled her away. Forsythe continued to gape, rubbed his eyes and looked back at her in amazement. His mind full of eddying thoughts and ideas, he strode out of the store with his parcel and _without _another word. At once, there were murmurs among the store's patrons.

"I know I do not need to ask what _he _wanted," Felicity said irately as Ben hugged her to him, his warm lips brushing her jaw and ear.

Mr. Haverty sighed, scratched the back of his head. "Nay, I s'pose not, girl, but if you _did _want to ask, then I'd say he came to make trouble, what else? To get your fellow here riled up, and if that don't beat all-" he nodded at the candy jar on the counter "-he bought some sticks of lickish," which was Haverty-talk for 'licorice.'

"He's dead," Ben growled in his anger. "He's worse than dead if he thinks he can stop us from getting married." He looked into Felicity's startled green eyes with swimming intensity. "Nothing can keep me from you, Lissie. You know that, don't you girl?"

"Aye, I know." She smiled slylky then, as Ben kissed her pert little nose. "I caught him trying to make conversation with Nan before I got here. According to her, he just wanted to talk, and he mentioned leaving for somewhere up North before the year is out. Now what do you make of _that_?"

Ben shook his head in disbelief. "I don't think he intends to go _anywhere_. He came in here insinuating that he was up to something, which I have no doubt that he is, and he seemed awfully proud of himself for it, too."

Felicity sat her basket down on the counter-top and was immediately pulled back to Ben's chest by his eager, relentless arms. "But just _what _is he capable of doing to ruin our engagement? From the moment I first met him I got the impression that he was up to something, and that was five years ago! He was in here not long before you came home, Ben, going on about how he had merely returned to retrieve some things of his that he had left with his Aunt."

"He is up to something, that is for certain," Ben muttered loathfully. "I assume that only now has he found the resources to carry out his threats, or so he thinks! Men of the Legion are well-trained in thwarting the enemy. There is simply nothing he can do that I cannot prevent." He kissed Felicity's temple. "You'll be a sworn Davidson before you know it, pretty Lissie."

"Your father no doubt heard voices from back there, so he'll definately want to know what's going on," Mr. Haverty grumbled, looking at the whispereing customers. "I better see to those folks before they quit the place."

Felicity, feeling invincible, smiled at the older man quite humorously. "I get the impression that no one is too eager to leave, actually. People know that not only is Merriman's the store with the best prices and the best selections, but also the place where they can get the best gossip!"

Haverty uttered his usual "Heh!" and ambled off. Ben gave Felicity a swift, hard kiss on her irresistable pink lips and said, "I know that ass is obsessed with you, Lissie. I know why. You are beautiful, spirited and unpredictable. You're special. But he will not have you. I will not let him threaten you...or _us_!"

"I can take care of myself, Ben," she reminded him with an understanding look. "And I can handle Forsythe. I"m not made of pie crust; I will not crumble."

"Yes, well..." Ben followed her behind the counter as she took it upon herself to tend to the woman who had approached them, ready to pay for the set of sewing needles she had selected. "As the man who loves you, Lissie, I will do what I must to keep you safe."

"I know you will, Ben,"Felicity said affectionately, sparing her fiance a quick, dazzling grin that made his heart skip and his loins tighten. As she accepted coins from the woman purchasing the sewing needles, she was very much aware of his soulful brown eyes upon her, and mused that if looks could touch, she was most likely being thoroughy ravished right now.

The thought made her grin widen.

The woman left and Felicity turned to him, nodded at the basket she had brought with her. "I nearly forgot I'd brought you men some of my cornbread muffins."

"Muffins for the men, hugs for your father, but your lips are _mine _only," Ben murmured, transfixed _by _those tempting lips. He felt a tremendous swelling inside him-above the waist-that was more than just male pride over having for himself the best, most beautiful, most rarest gem-of-a-girl that ever was, but more like a fierce, flaming obsession. A need to protect her that went far beyond what he had felt for her as a boy. Aside from raging desire, he felt a posessiveness, a need to whisk her away to some special place where it would just be the two of them. There was so much on his mind, and in his heart! Not just the taunting, relentless urge for animalistic sex, either. She was more than just his body's desire. She was everything.

Of _course _Edward Merriman had heard Ben's loud voice from the back room. Of _course _he had demanded to know what the devil was going on out there, and _naturally _Ben, Felicity, and Caleb Haverty took turns telling him. Added to them was an elderly gossip, Mrs. Jewell Pritchard, who felt (as most gossips do) it was her patriotic duty to inform on suspicious, trouble-makers who wore frilly clothing. But Edward Merriman did not react the way Ben thought he would. His expression turned contemplative, quiet. He had paused only to shake hands and bid a good day to his new, Richmond-based supplier, then let it be known that Felicity was to go absolutely _no_where alone (despite her outraged protesting) and that Forsythe was no longer allowed inside the store. On top of that, Mr. Merriman concluded that he would speak with Lady Templeton herself. It was all he could think of to do at the present, for as annoying and strange the young lord was, Reginald Forsythe had committed no crime.

Edward figured he _could _talk to the town constables, too. Ask them to keep an eye out and an eye _on _the odd young man. Knowing he was a wealthy loyalist just might give what few militiamen left behind in Williamsburg the incentive to tail the dandy whenever and _where_ever he left his Auntie's estate to wander.

That night, Ben was sitting up in his bed in the Merriman's little guestroom, awaiting Felicity to slip in, clad in his half-open night shirt, knees drawn up and arms around them. He found he could no longer sleep peacefully without the girl's soft, willowy body beside, near or against him. Knowing that made him smile uncontrollably. And even when she _was _near, beside or against him it was not easy to sleep, for the smell of her hair, her dreamy sighs, the sight of a curvy hip or well-rounded bulge of a breast beneath her cotton shift damn near drove him out of his mind _and _his breeches.

But he never pushed.

She would snuggle tight against him on these chilly, October nights, facing him, pressing close, body to body. She knew not what that kind of movement did to him. There were times that she would sense he was just not close enough for her liking, and in her sleep her brow would crease, she'd grunt or moan complainingly and squirm about until the warmth and solidity of his skinny, sinewy body was warming her back to blissful sleep.

Still he did not push.

He smiled sleepily at her as she tip-toed in around midnight, having needed no candle to find her way in the dark she knew her way so well. In near-complete darkness she knew when he was smiling at her even if she could not see him clearly. There were just some things that they did not need to see to _feel_.

For Felicity, sneaking in to sleep with her handsome Ben was a thrill greater than horseback riding. She felt wild, brave...a bit naughty even though they were not doing anything wrong, really. Her reasoning was that they were engaged, which meant they were one step closer to being married, which in turn meant that by January sixth they would truly _be _sharing a bed as husband and wife. _This _was just...practice. Aye, that was it, practicing.

She giggled mischieviously as she dived beneath the covers to get close to him, and Ben was already reaching for her, eager to get his arms full of her and feel her softness against his hardness. It was sweet torture, sleeping with her like this. She was so innocent, so trusting! They snuggled close and gazed at each other in the darkness, not needing to see more than that to know what the other was seeing. Her fingers touched his strong, developed jawline, where a muscle twitched in his effort to remain tame for her sake. Those gentle, loving fingers traced his dark eyebrows and eyelashes, and the sentimental sigh she emitted sent erotic shudders coursing through his grown body and made him shift needfully against her.

"Must we wait?" he whispered so softly, his lips moving against the bridge of her pert little nose.

"Yes, we must," she replied with a grin, her fingertips gliding along his collarbone just inside his open nightshirt. "It will make our union as husband and wife all the more glorious."

"I know," he sighed. "I just want you so much. I will go mad if I do not have you soon."

She chuckled tolerantly. "Ben, you are _such _a naughty boy!"

"And _you _can be a naughty girl. Which is why we are so perfectly matched."

"Becuase we are naughty?"

His fingers twined through her silky red locks. "Because that is _one _of the many things that make us perfect. We were made for each other. I have always believed this."

"Since when have you 'always believed this'?" Her hand came to rest upon the diagonal scar upon his chest.

"Since I found you that morning, sneaking around with my best Sunday breeches!" He laughed a little. "I was suddenly aware that my master's daughter was a natural-born rebel. I liked that. _And _you just happened to look so adorable in my breeches."

Her face tilted up, although she could not see him distinctly in the dark. "Never once have you patronized me for doing something _un_gentlewomanly. That means the world to me, Ben."

"So don't you see that I love you just the way you are? Whyever would I want you to change?"

Her flat hand turned to a small ball of worry upon his chest. "Because I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm going to be a wife soon-and after that, a mother! I'm absoluterly terrified!"

"It will be all right, Lissie, trust me," he soothed, stroking her magnificent red mane. "How many times have you been told that not all change is bad?"

She frowned worriedly. "The thought of childbirth scares me witless, Ben. It can kill women _and _their babies. 'Tis painfu! Women scream like the very devil is torturing them with his hayfork! Why must something that comes from great pleasure cause such great pain?"

"For that very reason, I suppose," Ben murmured softly. To be lying in a bed together, unmarried, discussing childbirth, was breaking rules left and right and Ben Davidson couldn't help but feel like he had just won another battle against British rule. "'Tis the way of life, and I know, it is not fair. I may not be one of the world's greatest thinkers, but I do wonder about things." He inhaled and said, "But you need not suffer it alone, Lissie. I want to be with you when you are giving birth to our children."

_What?_

_This _surprised her so much that she raised up on one elbow. "Ben Davidson! That is highly unusual! I have never heard of a man being present whilst a baby is being born!"

"Nor have I." He smiled lazily. "But I know you think about things, too, my bride. So consider this: is the man not responsible for planting his seed? Is there a law that states a man cannot be present when his own flesh and blood comes into the world? Or that he cannot be at his wife's side when she is in such horrible pain?"

"N-No, I suppose not," Felicity gulped, finding this reasoning (as well as the topic) all so new and awkward." But Mrs. Trent says that if a man watches his child being born it will make him not want to be intimate with his wife ever again!"

"Now since when have you ever put faith in the tales of others?"

"Some of those tales are true!" she protested.

"Look Lissie, I'm going to be right by your side come hell or high water. You will not endure anything difficult alone. Mark me, they will have to shoot me to keep me away from you!"

"Good Lord, Ben!"

He squeezed her close to him, closed his eyes against the exhilarating sensations of arousal and posessiveness he felt burning within him. "No one rules us, my pretty girl. You and I are an independent team. _We _choose how to live our lives." He felt her nod at his neck. "_I _choose to be with you when our children come into the world."

"Well, so be it," Felicity sighed gently. "If you wish." She felt his whole body relax against her. That Ben! Here he was, just home from the war at the age of twenty-three, having known fighting and killing, having gained a better knowledge of the world, and _still _he posessed that same boyish charm and smile that made her heart whip around her chest as when she was eleven. "It's amazing," she commented in a near-whisper, "that we are still able to talk about anything and everything. Intimacy and childbirthing, and we're not even married yet!"

"Things we'd be talking about eventually, anyway," Ben reminded her thoughtfully. "There is nothing to be kept secret between us; never has been, never wil be."

"Oh I'm so glad of that!" Felicity breathed in relief. "You know, Ben, I was so worried that you would be drastically different when you returned. Well, you _are _different, but yet the same. I just wish I knew all the interesting things you do!"

Ben laughed softly. "Lissie, there are things I wish I _didn't _know. Things I wish I could forget. What 'interesting things' were you referring to, exactly?"

"Like guns and swordplay, meeting famous generals, Places you went, you know."

"You mean you haven't heard enough war-talk already?" In the darkness, he grinned, marvelling at her as his ever-wandering hands wandered down her shoulder and arm to rest atop the covers upon a shapely hip. "I'll give you sword-lessons if you like."

"I like! Yes, do that!"

"Girl, you are a wonder. You're going to be the best wife a man could ever have!"

Felicity giggled and squirmed. Then after a moment she said with a little more seriousness, "I wish I knew more about _being _a wife."

"How so?"

She swallowed uncertainly. "Remember I said that it is an acceptible thing for a man to enter into marriage already experienced in intimate matters? I just wish _I _could already know something that would please _you_."

Ben pulled back, looked at her with curiosity. "But you don't have to, Lissie. We'll find out what pleases each other together. For a man or a woman to enter into marriage already knowing about intimacies would mean...it would mean-" Suddenly his boyhood shyness prevented him from finishing.

But Felicity _wasn't _shy. "It would mean that one or both of them would have already been bedded," she finished for him flatly. "That needn't be so, Ben Davidson. There is always the carnal knowledge that gets passed down from old wife to new wife."

"Ah yes," Ben agreed, with a bit of amusement, "as in the sage advice you recieve from the ever-resourceful _Patriot Ladies."_

"Exactly! Now stop that laughing! I have also seen the mating of animals, like cats and dogs, and even sheep! Cats make the most horrible noises, and it looks so bizarre, but with the sheep-oh, _do _stop laughing at me!" Beneath the covers, she attempted to kick his shin.

Ben struggled to be calm, though it took quite an effort. "I'm not laughing at _you_, little seductress! 'Tis only the mating comparison of people and animals! They are quite different-a person really doesn't need carnal experience to know _that_! Oh, I suppose there is animal-like behavior with men and women; I know how _I _feel whenever I look at you, kiss you, touch you, or even just _think _about you! 'Tis all I can do to keep from setting upon you and going mad!" (Felicity turned red and hot all over at this) "But that time will come soon enough. With men and women...intimacy is, well, _varied_."

"And just how on earth do you know that, Ben Davidson?" Felicity asked immediately, the rise in her voice urging him to lay fingers upon her lips.

"Sssh! Listen..." He moved close to her so that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Sometimes, officers wives and lovers would come to camp, and when it got dark, they would sneak off..." He stopped to take into consideration what he was about to confide in her.

"And what, you would sneak off _with _them?" she glowered suspiciously.

"Of course not! Sometimes I was charged with collecting the firewood, or patrolling the edge of camp with another soldier, or simply stumbling out into the bushes to take a piss-" (Felicity snorted her amusement) "-and I or we would unexpectedly come upon an officer and his lady, well, _in the act_. 'Twas not all that uncommon."

Felicity gasped in shock. "But didn't you-couldn't you just leave or run away?"

Ben laughed. "I suppose so. Well, of _course _I could have. But I didn't."

"Whyever not? Such things are meant to be private!"

He couldn't help but find his young bride's indignation rather amuseing. "I didn't want to."

"Benjamin Davidson!"

"Look, if they wanted to have privacy they should not have chosen the outskirts of a military camp. That's the _worst _place to get caught doing _anything_!" (Felicity could tell he was still grinning) "And besides, it was not as if they were concerned with anything else but what they were doing. 'Twas not their brains they were thinking with!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Ben!"

"Well anyways, I watched. You must admit it was fascinating, the love act. One can glean much knowledge from simply observing, you know." He sounded quite pleased with himself.

Felicity snarled, "Just how much 'knowledge' did you 'glean', _Captain _Davidson?"

"Just enough to know all the wickedly delightful things I want to do to you," he told her in a most wickedly delighful tone of voice. "You must know that it was _you _I was fantasizing about whilst I watched. You and I."

"Oh really?" She pretended to express skepticism even as her heart raced excitedly. "Did you have any notion of how old I was at the time of your fantasizing?"

"Why certainly! Thirteen, I would say. But in my mind's eye, my version of you was very close to the little beauty I have right beside of me this instant: Soft skin, luscious lips, the voluptuous, tantalizing breasts of a sea-siren..."

"_Sea-siren_?" Felicity clapped a hand her over her mouth to keep from cackling explosively.

"Aye, sea-siren," Ben continued in his lazy-eyed, husky-voiced mental description of her unclothed form. "Beckoning hips, spell-casting green eyes, long shapely legs with well-turned ankles, thighs like cream-"

"Ben, you bawdy devil!"

Before she could playfully scold him any further, he kissed her parted lips swiftly, making sure his hungry tongue swept firmly over hers. She released a whimper of protest, gulped, then breathed, "So...you were not fantasizing about Clarissa Dupre?"

"Hell no."

"Do not swear at me, dammit."

Ben laughed again, gently, reminding himself that it was he who had given her the swearing lessons. He helplessly buried his face in the bend of her neck. "I was not swearing at _you_, pretty Lissie. Lord, you are adorable when you curse!"

"I am _not _adorable!" she chided, pretending now to be grumpy at him. "Call me seductress, temptress, sea-siren, or faerie-queen, but do _not _call me adorable!"

"Very well, little vixen."

She crinkled her mouth in faint suspicion. "You never had lustful thoughts about Clarissa Dupre?"

"_No_. Only of you. Only of the girl I swore I was going to return to and claim for my own." He lifted his face to hers again. "You _are _mine, aren't you Lissie?"

She sighed relentingly, letting her tension ease away. "Yes, Ben, always... but only if I get to claim you as _mine_."

"I am yours, my pretty bride," Ben mumured at her cheek once more. "Heart and soul...and body, whenever you please."

Felicity's mind whirled madly. In a bold move beneath the covers, she lfted the leg Ben's hand was resting possessively on the hip of, and draped it over _his _leg. "All right, then, my randy groom, tell me of the sacred acts of love you bore witness to that you really were not supposed to."

_Her _bold move prompted him to make one of his own. The hand on her hip moved beneath the covers to clasp her bare knee and stroke it with his thumb. It did not slip past him that her cotton shift had rode up to just above the silky knee he was stroking, and he had to use all of his military discipline not to push it up further. "Since you commanded it, I cannot refuse you. Never could. I saw a man lay his woman down upon the grass and lay himself upon her so that their bodies connected in the most physical way possible."

Stunned more by what she was envisioning than by his words, Felicity hesitated in wonder then asked, "Did he..was he..._hurting _her?"

"By no means," Ben whispered huskily. "She demanded that he move his body faster, harder. And he did."

_Faster? Harder? Good Land, what descriptions! _Felicity didn't know whether to be shocked or nervous! "But...what happened when he, er, did as she commanded?" _Oh blast, I sound so ignorant! Did Mrs. Trent not tell you that all that kissing_ _and touching leads to a burst of pleasure during which a man dispenses his seed and therefore makes a woman pregnant whilst his man-part is still embedded within- _She squeezed her eyes shut, slamming the door on her mental wanderings. "What I mean is, did she...enjoy it?"

"Oh immensely," Ben assured her provocatively, nipping her ear lobe. "So much that _she _screamed and _he _shouted. Neither one of them could move for five minutes afterward."

"Goodness gracious!" She simply could not imagine something giving someone so much pleasure that it made them want to scream! "Are you sure they were not in pain?"

"Entirely sure." Ben's voice grew serious. "When you and I are married, we too will know pleasures like that. I will have you know that I intend to kiss every inch of you, touch and explore every part of you, every curve. No part of you will be left unscathed, Felicity _Davidson_."

She shivered with sensual anticipation and pressed closer to him, feeling so tingly and wanting...like all of her wildest dreams were about to come true. She could hardly catch her breath. "But will I not get to have my way with _you _as well? It seems hardly fair that you get to have all the fun while I just lay..._however _it is I am to lay, and let you do..._whatever _it is you're going to do!"

The touch of glee was back in his voice. "Oh I do hope you will work your fiery wiles upon me! I will be at your mercy, as I always am, and we will take it in turns to ravish the hell out of each other-now why are _you _laughing?"

Her body convulsed with the waves of laughter that she fought to keep suppressed. "_Me _ravishing _you_? Oh that's funny!"

"But is that not fair?" Ben squeezed her knee anorously. She was so enticing when she laughed!

"Aye, it's fair, it's fair! But I am going to find some ways to make _you _shout with pleasure, Mr. Davidson! I don't know what exactly they will be, but I shall find out!"

_Your presence is enough, pretty Lissie, _Ben thought in heated arousal, _to begin with..._

Felicity's mind was a-whirl. And then something unexpectedly slipped into her mind that she had not considered before. Something unexpectedly worrisome. Ben was clearly anxious for intercourse, as fellows his age usually were, but after everything she'd ever heard about 'men's needs,' she was sudenly struck with the fear that Ben would not want to marry her if she insisted that they wait until their wedding night. _Grown men have needs. If those needs are not met _one _way..._

_Oh Felicity! You are being so silly again! Ben LOVES you-and BECAUSE he loves you, he will be patient. Has he not always expressed your union to be special?_

_But for a fellow as handsome as he...to be twenty-three years of age and not having had any experience in intimacy! January just cannot get here fast enough!_

"Felicity?"

"Hmm?" She was drawn back out of her self-tormenting thoughts by Ben's voice. "I was just thinking.""Pray tell."

"Will I not be worth the wait, Ben? Is your need so great that you might feel inclined to seek your pleasures elsewhere?" _Like with that ray of sunshine called 'Clarissa'?_

"God, no." Ben's hand moved from her knee to her soft cheek, for the worry in her tone touched him deeply. "We will be married in just a few months. You are worth waiting for, Lissie. And I have waited a mighty long time for you. A little longer will not kill me." He could still sense her unease, so he added softly, "We _can _joke about it, it helps. I said I would not push you or aggravate you, and I meant that. I'm sorry if it seems like I have sometimes."

She nodded, trying to understand. "I have desires too, Ben, I told you so. I may be braver and less refined than other girls, but I want out union to be blessed and before God. I want it to be perfect, remember? Mother did not raise a complete ninny, you know."

"You're no ninny, Felicity Merriman," Ben told her believingly. "You are perfect just the way you are, perfect for _me_. I want our union to be perfect, too. It _will _be."

She sighed, finally feeling sleepiness come over her, and in a few moments drifted off to sleep in the overwhelming comfort of Ben's strong arms, trusting that the sixth of January would indeed come soon. Then she could begin her life anew as Mrs. Benjamin Davidson.

She was convinced she was ready for it.

In the morning, after breakfast, Felicity was on her way out to join Ben for a ride on Penny after the table had been cleared, when her mother stopped her for a 'talk', where Mrs. Merriman revealed that it was well known to her and Mr. Merriman that Felicity had been spending nights together with Ben. While Felicity was speechless at being 'discovered', Mrs. Merriman was surprisngly not harsh with her.

"I disapprove of this behavior, Lissie," she said sternly, her face thoughtful yet scrutinizing, "but I cannot be cross with you when I myself at your age left my window open for your father to slip in to see me late at night. "

"Mother, truly!" Felicity had gasped.

"Aye," Martha Merriman sighed. "He had just returned from fighting Indians and I had missed him so terribly. Believe me, Lissie, I know the joy, the love, and the relief you feel over having the one you love safe at home once more, but-"

"Did Grandfather know?" Felicity's eyes had a shine in them that Mrs. Merriman had to try extremely hard not to smile at; she was, after all, in the midst of being a criticizing parent!

"Absolutely not! If he had, your father would have never-now stop distracting me, Felicity. I am telling you this so you will know that I can relate to your feelings about Ben. You will be married soon, and I am happy for the both of you. _But! _the two of you are much more willfull and more dauntless than your father and I ever were. I am concerned that you will be sacrificing your chastity believing no harm can come of it since your vows are not too far off."

Felicity had taken her mother's hands into her own and spoke with clear assurance. "Believe _me_, Mother, I will _not _do anything of the sort! All Ben and I do is sleep, nothing more. Of _course _we feel the pressures of wanting to act upon our feelings, and we do make jokes about it, but we both want our vows to be honest. He and I would _never _do anything to shame our families no matter _how _close our wedding is."

"You don't know how much that means to me, Felicity. Your father will be glad of it as well."

"But you are still uncomfortable with me and Ben sleeping together, aren't you?"

"What can I say, my girl? I am your mother." Mrs. Merriman laid her hands upon the shoulders of her self-assured daughter. "I worry about you, not just because you are a living part of me, but also because you have a fearlessness about you that tends to get you into trouble. I do not say that to be unkind, you understand. Your father and I cannot prevent you from sneaking about to be with your own fiance-you _are _a grown woman now. We can only pray that you can retain some good judgement in the time remaining before your marriage."

"You did not raise an idiot, Mother," Felicity said, feeling and sounding a touch irritated. "Must everyone always assume the worst of me?"

"No, Felicity, it is not that we are thinking the worst of you, honey-we do not. We just worry that your spiritedness is more than you can resist sometimes."

Felicity held herself with dignity. "Well it is not. I may not be a perfect gentlewoman, but I am _not _stupid." She paused, then asked, "Will Father be hard on Ben?"

"No more than any father would be on a son who's behavior is questionable." Martha saw that this did not ease her daughter's tension, so she added, "No, Lissie. No more than I am being with you. Your father _was _once Ben's age, you know. He loves Ben very much and wants the best for the both of you, as I do. They will talk man-to-man."

Felicity released her breath slowly. "Mother, how did you even _know _Ben and I were, ah, sharing a room?"

Mrs. Merriman offered, at last, a lenient smile. "I am a mother, Lissie; no matter how old my children are I will never be able to cease the habit of rising in the night to see if they are safe and well. Perhaps one day it will be a habit that you, too, will develop with your own children."

Felicity smiled at that.

"Ben does not aggravate you about intimacy?"

"No, Mother. He's good to me, all of the time."

Martha nodded agreeingly. "I know he is good to you, but remember that talk we had about grown men and their..._wants_?"

"Yes, Mother, I have not forgotten anything you _or _Mrs. Trent have told me."

"Ah yes, dear Mrs. Trent," Mrs. Merriman shook her head, smiling a bit more. "She does tend to be a bit..._blunt _with her wisdom, but she does know much about men, having raised sons. Felicity, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Please be sensible about what you are doing, will you?"

Felicity let out a sound of sheer exasperation. "Of course I will! About what I'm doing and what I'm _not _doing!"

Mrs. Merriman sat down at the prep table. "I didn't know that when I allowed you to sleep on the floor at Ben's side that you would be moving up _into _the bed with him." She gave her eldest daughter a mother's troubled look. "_Bundling _is not so acceptible to most of society, you know."

"I know, I know!" Felicity sat down across from her."But no one needs to know about our private business, Mother. Why would we go shouting out private business to strangers, anyway? Mother, you've got to trust me. Trust _us_!"

"I want to, Lissie. I'm _trying _to. Do not make me regret this tolerancy I am giving you. Sometimes I wonder if your father and I have allowed you too much freedom...but we have always wanted you to become acquainted with the world on your own terms, to learn how to face the consequences of your own actions. Your integrity is in your _own _hands. Do not abuse it."

"I won't," Felicity entreated, growing more restless and annoyed by the moment. "You are always telling me to have faith-why don't _you_?"

"Because sometimes this world can be very, very cruel, Felicity. Sometimes it is hard to have faith when it is being tested. But I will try." Once more she relented to smile. "After all, you _are _my daughter. Not _all _circumstances need to be made into a turmoil!"

"_Thank _you, Mother!" Immensely relieved that this little 'talk' seemed to be drawing to a close, she jumped up and kissed her mother's pink cheek. "Ben and I will not let either of you down!" And she left her mother there in the mini-kitchen to ponder what all was said between them.

She was off to help Elizabeth with dried flower arrangements after her morning ride with Ben (who's 'talk' with _Mr_. Merriman had been equally nerve-wracking but also concluded on a positive note), and in her ever-sensationalizing thoughts, she was making plans for her own future wedding.

Little did she know that _someone else _had already made plans for her that would bring all of hers to a screeching halt.

CHAPTER FINISHED!


	24. Chapter 20: The Gooch

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt.2, Ch.20: The Gooch

He was a big bear of a man, built like a burly wrestler, though his unwavering devotion to food and strong drink was evident with his roundy gut. He reeked of rum and tobacco, rarely wore a coat, and seemed to have permanent black beard stubble on a full round face that nearly always had a pipe hanging out of its mouth. Dark brown eyes squinted out at the world beneath bushy black brows between which grew a stubby wide nose. Though his age put him at around forty, his unruly black hair had streaks of grey through it already. He wore a crooked, messy queue and shook like a bowl of pudding when he laughed, which seemed to be much too often.

The name of this bulky woodsman was Ezekiel Gooch.

He sat on a wooden bench, puffing away on his black pipe, in the well-tended barn of the Templetons, as the young English lord from Bristol stood before him, arms crossed, thin lips crinkled in skeptical contemplation. Nearer to the wide barn doors stood the butler Smedley, rigid and bored, gloved hands clasped behind his back as usual.

"You are not what I expected," Forsythe began hesitantly, his small hazel eyes flicking over the brawny fellow who was called 'The Gooch' with distaste. "I thought you would be..." Now what was the word for it? "Cleaner."

"Haw haw!" laughed the burly man, slapping his knee. "You aint what I expected, either, yer lordship! Thought you'd be taller. Older. Worldly-lookin'. Kinda primpy, aint ye?" His gut-oriented laugh, like his voice, was gravelly and gurgly.

Smedley rolled his eyes.

"All right, all right," Forsythe sighed tensely, rubbing his forehead. "It does not mater what either of us look like. 'Tis said that you are the best marksman in the North-when you are sober, that is. I need to know that I can count on you to get the job done."

"Fer the right amount of money, I'll hunt ye a dragon!" The Gooch harked with a toothy grin.

"So you say, Mr. Gooch. I've paid well enough for your transport here from New York, and I'm about to pay you a handsome amount for your task. I need your word you'll be sober enough to carry out our plans."

"Aye, shur 'nuff, yer lordiness. When do I do it?"

As Smedley yawned behind him, Forsythe began to pace back and forth as his mind raced intensely. "My source tells me that Ben Davidson and Edward Merriman will be leaving for Richmond early on Friday morning. They are going to procure the nuisance apprentice his merchant certificate so that he can set up shop God only knows where, or so _they _think. They will spend the night in Richmond and start back the following day. If they do indeed follow this arrangement, it will be nightfall when they return to Williamsburg. _Then _you will do what you do best."

Gooch grunted appreciatelively. "Sounds simple 'nuff. Not that I'm complainin', but just outta curiosity, why is it you want this fella done away with s'bad?"

Forsythe met the burly hunter's inquisitive stare with wincing, seething hazel eyes. "Because he is a threat to my future happiness. That is the main and only necessary reason. But if you are the sort who requires other justifications, well fine, I will accomodate you: He is a Patriot rebel who is dead set against our king. He and his men maliciously slew an uncountable number of our Loyalists in cowardly deceit, and is hailed a hero for it by most." He pursed his lips. "As a Londoner, you _are _still loyal to your country, are you not? Or have the many years spent in these colonies deluded your good judgement?"

"I don' want no part of no war," Gooch clarified, gesturing with a sweep of one big hand. "M'loyalty is to m'self. Aint got nary a wife, aint got no young 'uns-that I knows of, anyway. I offer m'service to the highest bidder, which at th' moment happens to be _you_, yer highness." He chuckled throatily.

"Perhaps, my lord," offered Smedley, staring down his long nose with aversion at the rougish woodsman, "you should consider compensating him with hard liquor."

"Haw haw!" The Gooch laughed heartily. "I like the way ye think, Stiffy! Mebby you aint s'stiff after all, haw haw!"

"Do shut up, both of you." Forsythe stopped pacing and looked the big man in the eye. "Can I or can I not rely on you to dispose of Benjamin Davidson the night he returns from Richmond? 'Tis imperative that this gets done, and I can assure you that you will be well compensated in _whatever _manner you wish so as to make you comfortable for the rest of your life. Now do we have an understanding, Mr. Gooch?"

"Yup, shur!" The man rubbed his knees with his huge chubby hands. "Ye gots yerself a deal, yer lordiness. I aint passin' up a deal like that!"

"Excellent. Smedley and I shall be at the Raleigh at the time of your task, so as to have our presences accounted for when questions arise. And it would be to your benefit if you keep as low a profile as possible, so as to not arouse any curiosity."

Gooch looked affronted. "What am I s'posed to do fer the next few days, twiddle me thumbs? I hear th' Raleigh gots good ale!"

"Dammit, man, I need you to be sober. After the job is done you can imbibe yourself into oblivion for all I care. But as long as I am paying you, you will follow _my _instructions!"

Gooch looked past the fuming Forsythe at Smedley and grinned toothily. "A touch moody, aint he?"

Smedley shrugged indifferently.

"Now listen to me, Gooch," Forsythe continued, "my Aunt Lucinda is currently lacking a gardener, for the man she had died last month and she's been too preoccupied with my Uncle's failing health to give it much thought. You can use the gardener's cabin for the duration of your stay. No one will bother you-I will see to that. You are to keep out of the public eye as much as possible..." He thought a moment. "There just happens to be a convenient number of people who have evacuated Yorktown here, not to mention those who are here to catch a glimpse of their beloved Patriot leaders...I suppose you _could _go out if you wish-but only if you keep to yourself and make your outings brief. Do not incite trouble, Mr. Gooch. I know you hunters enjoy a good brawl after intoxicating yourselves, but you are _my _employee. I will _not _indulge a situation that could connect our association. Do I make myself clear?"

"I s'pose, yer lordship." The Gooch scratched the back of his fat neck. "Don' make much difference t'me."

Forsythe sighed tersely. At least now his plans were _finally _beginning to amount to something!

On October seventeenth, word came to Williamsburg that Cornwallis was surrendering. The church bells rang out, there was excited shouting in the streets, rifles fired into the air and kegs of 'emergency' ale popped open like mad. There were tears of joy, tears of relief, hugging, hand shaking, huzzahs and impromptu celebrations a-plenty.

Late that afternoon, William and his 'sidekick' Arthur Pratt came barrelling into Merriman's store with the spreading news. Mr. Merriman closed up immediately and went home to celebrate with his family. Ben, who'd been out behind the house chopping firewood for the woodpile, heard the news from a breathless Marcus, then went to find Felicity, who was working in her garden. Whooping and hollering, Ben ran to her, scooped her up in his arms and kissed her so hard her mouth hurt.

But she had become accustomed to his ferocious affections by now.

They flew into the house to rejoice with the rest of the family. There wasn't a dry eye under the roof the entire evening, and even young William was allowed a couple of ounces of celebratory wine. Nan had been just as overjoyed as everyone else, but late that evening she stood at one of the parlor windows, gazing out in contemplation. Felicity did not need to see that she was holding Lucien LaCroix's embroidered handkerchief to know who her sister was preoccupied with.

Felicity went to her and hugged her. "He is alive and he will return, Nan. I am sure of it!"

"We will know soon enough," Nan said pensively, smiling a little.

"He is a dear, our Lucien. I hope he will decide to live here when his time in the army is through."

Nan nodded in silent agreement, smiling mysteriously as she laid her head upon her sister's shoulder. They both stood there awhile, immersed in the powerful significance of this day and the effects it could have on their futures.

That night, as Felicity lay snuggled up to her beloved in utter comfort and happiness, she whispered, "It is really over, isn't it, Ben?"

"Aye, my girl," Ben whispered back with a smile. "'Tis only a matter of time before it is made official. I'm sure there will still be fights and skirmishes with the redcoats that refuse to quit, but the worst is over." He released his breath in a long sigh. "My God, it _is _over. It went on for so long..."

"_Too _long," added Felicity

"Damn war kept me away from you for five long years."

She kissed his warm cheek. "But you came back-alive! I am grown now and _we _are set to be married in January. We are as free as Virginia!"

He had no words to describe the love and the happiness radiating inside of him, like the very sun itself was encased in his bones. He hugged her tightly and revelled in the memories of events that had led him to this place in his life: everything from his mother's death to kissing Felicity goodbye as he left Williamsburg as a cavalry soldier. He'd survived this war, albeit barely, and now he was on the verge of yet another new chapter of his life as a husband...marrying his very best friend, the object of his desires, the very soul that was the living, breathing incarnation of his heart.

And he was going to have his very own store, right here in Williamsburg. He was beginning to feel like the man who had it all.

But was it all too good to be true?

The morning of the Friday following Cornwallis's surrender, Ben and Mr. Merriman were ready to start out to Richmond. Ben would ride Patriot and Edward would ride Penny. Felicity would mind the store with Caleb Haverty. She was overjoyed for the two most important men in her life, for this day was yet another major step toward her new life with Ben, whom she was so proud of that she smothered him violently with kisses in the barn before he mounted up. She found herself not wanting to release him from her grasp, and he certainly did not want to be.  
In her deliciously sinful thoughts she wished she could mount _him_, and burst into a fit of wild giggles.

"You are certainly in a frisky mood this morning, my pretty bride," observed Ben as he kissed the side of her neck.

"I do feel rather adventurous," Felicity told him, grinning loonishly. "_And _you are so much fun to kiss!"

Ben made a deep, amorously hungry sound in his throat and said, "You are rousing the wolf in me, little temptress. Be careful of the things you say."

"Nonsense!" scoffed she, clasping his face in her hands. "If you are a wolf, then _I _am a _she_-wolf! And I can be just as dangerous as you!"

He grinned and held her tight. "We'll be back by tomorrow evening. Though I consider that to be too long to be away from you, I'm glad I am getting this done. I'll return to you an official shop-merchant, and then we can begin looking for a house of our own, here in Williamsburg for just the two of us!"

"Oh Ben, its really happening, isn't it! We're going to have a store, a home, a huge, magnificent big fat wedding- _whoosh_! The very thought nearly takes my breath away!"

"I know!" He gazed past her beautiful red head as he hugged her, out the open barn doors where Mr. Merriman, his former master and now soon-to-be-father-in-law, was waiting for him with Penny and Patriot. "Well, love, the sooner I go the sooner I will return, and we will begin making our dreams come true."

"Mmmm," Felicity half-moaned as she kissed him passionately.

Hand in hand they exited the barn. "What will you be doing today?" Ben asked casually.

"I'll be at the store most of the day with Mr. Haverty. Then I am to meet with Arthur to discuss the surprise wedding gift he and I are arranging for Elizabeth. Can you believe that in just five more days they will be married?"

"And we will soon follow, my beauty." Ben stopped at Patriot's side, kissed Felicity once more (for he just could not get enough of those sweet lips), then swung up into the saddle and adjusted his tri-corn.

From the front yard, Mrs. Merriman waved to her husband. "Be safe!" she called pleasantly as Felicity went to stand by her side. When they could no longer see their men's backs, Mrs. Merriman turned to her. "Ben is very excited, isn't he."

"Oh yes, Mother! He's trying not to burst! I am so excited for him that _I _could burst!"

Mrs. Merriman smiled proudly. "He is going to secure his _and _your futures, Lissie."

"Now, Mother, I know you think that a young lady's future depends on the man she marries, but I like to think that I am the one in control of my future."

"Part of me agrees with you," Mrs. Merriman said gently. "Unfortunately society upholds that men are in control of everything. Perhaps that will change in the generations to come."

Felicity smiled, biting her tongue to keep from starting a debate about women's rights- it would have been so easy- but the morning was too special. The future _she _chose to have with Ben Davidson was off to an exciting beginning.

Or so she thought.

The sky was getting dark by the time Ben and Mr. Merriman were getting back into Williamsburg the following evening, but their spirits couldn't be lighter. Ben was a merchant now. All he could think about was getting home to Felicity and kissing her, hugging her. Showing off his merchants' certificate. Kissing Felicity. Hugging Felicity. Eating some hot pie. And kissing Felicity some more.

"You realize we'll be rival shopkeepers now," Edward Merriman said jovialy, intruding on Ben's amorous thoughts about his eldest daughter as the two rode into town.

"That needn't be so, sir," Ben replied easily, grinning. "I'm sure one of us will have something that the other does not."

"Aye, like Felicity." Edward smiled sentimentally. "'Tis known that she has a lively following of young folks. She just has a way with people. That will be a great benefit to your business!"

Ben nodded agreeingly. "That is for certain! I'm counting on her to attract lots and lots of customers!"

"You want them all to be male?"

"Interesting point, sir."

Edward laughed good-naturedly. "Ah, Ben, your business will do well no matter what. As well as can be for a town that will slowly but surely decline, that is. You know I'm not trying to intimidate you by saying that. The war is all but over, the French will stay awhile, but eventualy leave...what successful businesses there are here will loose money, then. They will leave if not shut down completely. 'Tis something you need to consider, Ben."

"I know, sir. Believe me, since I've been home I've become aware of the town's changes. Once the armies are gone Williamsburg will never be the same. It's a damn shame, sir."

"Aye," Mr. Merriman concurred.

"I would never wish to move Felicity away from you and the family," Ben continued, contemplating the possibilities of having to move. "But what if business becomes so bad that we have no other choice?"

"We won't be rival stores for long, then! Really, though, remember what I said about quitting the store in favor of moving out to King's Creek? I am sore tempted to close up _before _business gets that bad. But as for you and Lissie, however, as a couple you will have to decide what is best for the both of you. A business cannot thrive without customers." Edward paused, smiling. "'Tis not like you would need to leave the Virginia colony. There _are _other towns with ample opportunities..."

Ben's eyebrows went up. "Sir, are you suggesting _Richmond_?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. That is for you and Felicity to decide, if that time comes. I just want you to know that you have options."

"You wouldn't mind?"

Mr. Merriman smiled to himself as he guided Penny straight ahead. He loved it when he took people by surprise. "You were not my apprentice for nothing, you know."

Ben hadn't realized he was holding his breath until his lungs felt the pressure to exhale. "Thank you, sir!"

"Not a problem, Ben."

They continued on at a liesurely pace in comfortable silence, their horses moving at an easy walk, being so familiar with Duke of Gloucester Street. It was completely dark now, save for the light in peoples' windows and the flickering lights of the candle lanterns of the street's elegant posts. It was already getting to be a chilly night; already they saw their breath in smokey puffs. Ben pulled his dark cloak closer together at his neck and thought of Felicity's glorious, soft, warm body lying beneath the heavy covers in his room, the mischevious sparkle in her enchanting green eyes, that slanting 'I dare ye' smile...

_That _warmed him up considerably!

Home was just seven buidlings down. It would have been easy to nudge the horses into a canter to close the short distance, but Penny and Patriot were already tired, both men were already saddle-sore, and the recpetion they knew they would get as soon as they came in would be worth a few minutes' wait.

Which was exactly how long it could take to devestate a person's life.

He'd been waiting for them in the deepest, darkest shadows. He'd seen them leave, so he knew which man he was supposed to shoot. Being a husky, meaty fellow, the Gooch couldn't exactly hide behind neatly-trimmed bushes. Instead he had to rely on the pitch black shadows and the close growing tree trunks. The sky was clear, but there was no moon. For someone well-accustomed to hunting in the dead of night, he had no worry about hitting his target. He wore a rugged fur coat of animal pelts that he had made for himself out of the animals he had hunted; a menagere of rabbit, raccoon, fox and bear, over his thick fringed hunter's attire. A self-made 'ccom-skin hat sat atop his scraggly head. He was used to cold weather like this, especially in New York and the Canadian Territory. He'd hunted deer in thigh-high snow. _This_, he figure, would be too easy.

Ben, the ex-calvalry captain, should have suspected something when Patriot suddenly tossed his black head and stopped, snorting nervously, but when a man was fully absorbed in the finest, happiest of thoughts, wholly convinced that not a thing in the world could be wrong at this moment, his guard was naturally down.

Then the Gooch belched.

"Did you hear that, sir?" Ben tried to rein Patriot in as the young black thoroughbred moved sideways and nearly turned about completely in the direction in which they had come.

Penny, too, seemed to turn nervous, halting with her ears twitching like mad and her head jerking high. Mr. Merriman half-laughed. "Aye! I could swear that was a bodily noise of some sort!"

"You don't suppose there's somebody out there, do you?" Ben peered into the darkness on their left, but saw nothing but pitch black. Beneath him, Patriot pranced, snorted again, and refused to go forward. "Come on, big fellow, we're almost home. What's the matter?"

Gooch raised the flintlock he was holding in his right hand.

"Something's got them spooked," Mr. Merriman said. "If there is any one out there, they sound stone drunk!"

Oddly enough, out of the shadows just up ahead came a dog, with brown blotches on its white coat, wagging its tail pleasantly. It stopped in the middle of the road and looked at them, then trotted off into the hedges on the other side.

"That's one of the Wythe's hounds," Edward said, shrugging. "I suppose that's all it was, after all. Ah well, let's get on home with these two-"

A loud POP shattered the silence; both horses whinnied and pranced like mad. Before anyone could draw another breath, there was another loud POP, issued from the pistol that Ezekiel Gooch held in his other hand. In the dark the burly hunter smiled to himself with satisfaction as he saw the recipient of his shots fall off one of the half-rearing horses. He reached into his coat for his tin flask of whiskey, drank sloppily from it, burped again, smacked his lips and left. As far as he was concerned, his job was done. Time to be paid.

"Mr. Merriman!" Ben cried in mind-numbing terror. He was off of Patriot's back in a flash, instictively drawing his own cavalry pistol, which he wore with him everywhere now simply out of habit. He stared into the darkness to their left. "Who's out there? Show yourself!"

Of course there was no reply, for the Gooch was gone. There was not even the snap of a twig nor the rustling of dead dry leaves. The Wythe's dog was barking in a frenzy, along with another unseen hound in the neighborhood, but none of this registered in Ben Davidson's mind as he scrambled to get to his fallen master's side. Mr. Merriman lay upon the cold cobble-stone street clutching his left front side.

"Ben..."

There was blood. _Lots _of it already. Edward Merriman wazs panting heavily and painfully. His face had already turned an ashen grey. "Ben, we must...get home." He gasped, made a struggling sound in his throat. "Did you see who it was?"

"No sir," Ben replied quickly. "As far as I could tell." He gulped, staring at the older man's wound and the severity of it. "It-it looks deep, sir..."

A door had flown open at the house nearest to them on their right, and a man bearing a musket came running out, looking around sharply. "Who's there? Good Lord, is that _you_, Edward Merriman?"

"Yes!" Ben shouted, for his former-master was losing strength quickly. "He's been shot twice in the side! We need a doctor NOW!"

"Get me home, Ben. Home to Martha," Edward rasped thickly. "Help me to my feet."

"But sir! You shouldn't-!"

"_Ben_," He grunted tightly, "_hurry_."

"I'm going for Doctor Sutton!" called the man who'd come out of his house. He handed his musket to his wife, who had come to the front door to see what was going on, then took off on foot up the road, for Dr. Sutton's house was not far.

Ben's military training took over; he hauled Mr. Merriman up into a sitting position, then up onto his feet. Edward clenched his teeth in fierce determination although he was beginning to feel faint. Ben got both strong arms around him and began to walk him toward their house despite the older man's dragging feet and heaving chest.

"You'll make it, sir," Ben attempted to assure him with dry mouth and tight throat. "Almost there!"

Edward nodded briefly, and Ben's fear rose. He'd helped wounded companions off battlefields strewn with the corpses of both warring parties, and he had _been _the wounded man helped off the battlefield by a companion. Experience taught him that this kind of musket-ball wound was not very promising. Two shots to a man's left front side were not encouraging. Mr. Merriman was bleeding badly.

Just as soon as they got within sight of the house, Ben raised his wind and shouted, "Felicity! Mrs. Merriman! Come out!"

"Lord have mercy!" exclaimed a woman's voice coming up on their right. "Let me help!" It was the wife of the man who had gone for Dr. Sutton. She was plump, forty-something, and surprisingly strong, as she proved by taking Mr. Merriman's right arm and draping it around her neck, relieving Ben of some of his master's wieght. This in turn helped hasten their progress up to the house.  
"Mrs. Merriman! Felicity!"

The front door swung open wide and Felicity came out. Instantly she clasped her arms together against herself against the chill of the evening. "Oh Ben, you're home! We've been...Oh my God, Father!" She ran to them, her face going from joyous to terrified in mere seconds. Seeing her father's beige coat soaking up blood on his left side was unavoidable, as his cloak was drawn back by his arm being around the plump woman's neck. She uttered a panicked cry and screamed, "Mother! MOTHER!"

Mrs. Merriman, followed by Nan, William, Polly and Rose, came to the door just as Felicity, Ben and the plump lady with a sagging Mr. Merriman between them got there. Martha gasped shrilly and clasped a shaking hand to her mouth to keep from yelping when she saw the state her dear husband was in. "Edward!" Behind her, the others reacted in shock with cries and stricken faces.

"He's been shot twice," Ben grunted as everyone rushed to help them in. "By someone hiding in the dark just up the road."

"My husband's gone to fetch Dr. Sutton since Dr. Galt's not even in town at the present," the plump woman informed the paling Mrs. Merriman, turning sideways so that she could help get her wounded neighbor inside.

"Th-Thank you, Mrs. Feeny." Mrs. Merriman faught to keep herself together for the sake of her frightened children, but she was clearly shaken and white as a sheet. She strode to the parlor entrance. "In here; he has been moved too much already. To the sofa, Ben." A fire was going in the fireplace, casting a blanket of warmth over all who entered, which helped with the chill but did little to comfort those shivering in shock.

Polly was crying into William's neck as they stood just outside the parlor. William, too, wanted to cry, but it was a testament to his growing maturity by his choosing to comfort his dear little sister and be strong for her rather than give in to his own panic.

"R- Rose, I need..." Mrs. Merriman attempted to put a sentence together, but her own fright was about to seep through.

But then Rose, who was already heading out of the room, said "I know, Miz Martha, I know what to get."

"Who would want to hurt Father?" Nan cried quietly as she watched her beloved parent being laid on his back on the couch ever so carefully. Felicity came to her and put her arms around her consolingly despite trembling with her own fear.

"That doesn't matter right now," Ben scowled, his anger keeping _him _from coming undone. He and Mrs. Merriman and Mrs. Feeny were removing the cloak, bloody waistcoat and shirt from Mr. Merriman so that the wounds would be more accessable. "Getting this bleeding stopped is all that _does_."

There was the sound of hasty feet on the wooden floor. Staring somberly, William backed Polly and himself away from the parlor entrance to allow room for Mr. Feeny and Dr. Sutton, the latter of which was already opening his black leather satchel. Sensing urgency and not wanting to further fill the room with more bodies than need be, Felicity began walking Nan out of the room, pausing only long enough to meet Ben's grim eyes. The look he gave her was just enough to let her know how serious her father's condition was. She swallowed tightly and removed Nan from the room.

"Will, Polly, let us go to the kitchen and let them help Father," she said kindly. "We will make hot chocolate for them."

Polly held to William's hand tightly as they followed their brave older sister to the mini-kitchen. She sniffed miserably and asked, "Is Father going to die, Lissie?"

All of her sibling's eyes were upon her, and the pain in her chest grew even more, for she had neither 'yes' nor 'no' to answer, and she simply could not hide the fear in her own voice. "I don't know, Rabbit. But what I do know is that Dr. Sutton is a smart man; he helped me get better when I had the fevers once. And Mother and Rose know all about tending to wounds. They will do what they can to help Father."

The younger two sat down at the prep table, close to the kitchen fire while Felicity gathered cups for drinking. "We're nearly out of cocoa powder," Nan murmured absently as she gazed into the tin chocolate canister. "There will not be enough..."

"Then we shall make coffee instead," Felicity decided firmly. "That I know we _do _have enough of."

A presence in the doorway made them all look up and over. Ben stood there, having had removed his cloak and tricorn. Felicity was so relieved to see him there that she put down her cups and went right to his arms.

"How is Father?" demanded Nan fearfully, a hand having flown to her heart.

"Honestly, Nan, it is hard to say," Ben replied stressfully as he squeezed Felicity tightly to himself. "He...he has lost a great deal of blood, and that has made him very weak. Your mother and Dr. Sutton are attempting to extract the musket balls now." It took an effort for him to swallow. "Mr. Feeny has gone to fetch a town constable. We _will _find whoever did this."

"But _who _would want to hurt _Father_?" William asked insistently, echoing Nan's words from earlier.

Ben's expression was as tense and stunned as the young man's question had been. "I just don't know, Will. We know there was someone out there, in the dark, possibly a drunkard..."

Felicity quickly lifted her face to look into his worried brown eyes. "Are _you _hurt, Ben? Did _you _get shot, too?" Immediately she began running her hands up and down his sides, her green eyes rapidly flickereing over his person with passionate concern.

If the circumstances were different, that kind of touching would warrant immediate _intimate _reaction. "No, Lissie, I'm fine. I promise." He gave her his best loving smile and she hugged him intensely in relief, for the only way she could be sure of that oath was to feel for herself. She did not put it past Ben Davidson to hide an injury to himself, God love his soul, for the sake of a man he held in higher regard than his own biologial father.

William wanted answers and could not be dismissed so easily, not that Ben had been trying to. "Do you think it was a British soldier, Ben?"

"Really, Will, I don't know!" Ben leaned against the door frame, keeping Felicity firmly clasped to him. "I would think not, since all of Cornwallis's men are supposed to be now surrendered to General Washington." He sounded uncertain of his own answer.

An unnerving thought shuddered through Nan. "What if it was a British _deserter_, like those horrible men who came to King's Creek this summer?"

Felicity winced sharply. "Who_ever _did it, I will throttle them myself!"

And no one in the room did not doubt that she could.

"We will catch the whoreson no matter _who _he is," Ben muttered loathfully. "And he will pay."

The appearance of the plump Mrs. Feeny made them all go quiet suddenly as she came into the mini-kitchen looking kindly at them all. "Here now, are we all well in here?"

"Yes, ma'am," Nan said politely, curtsying briefly. "How is our father?"

Mrs. Feeny sighed and rubbed her forehead with a plump hand. "Well, dear, I can't say much except that he is not worse. He is astrong fellow, your father. Dr. Sutton has been treating the wounded French comin' in from Yorktown over at the college, so he knows how to best deal with wounds like that." She smiled encouragingly at William and Polly. "Your mother just wanted me to look in on you young un's and see if you were holding up well."

"Mrs. Fenny, will you not have some coffee?" Felicity asked, blushing, the forgetting of her manners bringing her out of her worried stupor. She went to get the water boiling over the fire.

The plump woman gave it a thought. "Well, I'll have just a small cup before I have to get back to my own young 'uns, thank you dears. If there is anything I can do for you all, anything that you need..."  
"Thank you, ma'am," Nan said softly. "That is very kind of you."

"Your father gave us an entire sack of flour without asking for anything in return after Cornwallis and his men left," Mrs. Feeny told them all sentimentally. "We hadn't had a crumb left, and here he came with flour-and a whole cone of sugar, too! My Mr. and I will never forget your father's generosity, ever."

Nan gulped, trying visibly hard to keep herself contained. Polly laid her head on William's shoulder, and Felicity bit her bottom lip to keep from being overcome with tears. Ben, not knowing quite what to do with himself, went to Felicity and took the heavy cast iron kettle out of her trembling hands and hung it on the hook over the fire for her. She was grateful, for she could think of nothing but how much her father meant to her and the whole entire shock of the evening.

She watched Nan show Mrs. Feeny to the little table to sit, and suddenly, out of nowhere, a thought so vile and so wretched that it gave her icy chills despite her being so close to the fire crept into her head. She gasped and gripped Ben's closest arm so tensely that he was quick to pull her aside, closer to the back door.

"Lissie, what is it?" he whispered with frightened concern.

"Ben," she whispered back with a low voice thick with fear, "what if Forsythe did this?"

Ben's intense brown eyes widened and his jaw clenched. "I'll _kill _the whoreson!"

"Sssh!" Felicity urged, glancing over her shoulder at her oblivious siblings. "I don't believe Forsythe would have done the actual shooting himself. That is not his style-"

"But it sure as hell _is _his style to hire someone to do it for him!" Ben bristled angrily. "And it sure wasn't that old butler of his. _That old fellow_ can hardly stay upright on the bench of a moving coach!"

Felicity nodded in grim agreement. "Forsythe would have had to find someone. Most likely _hire _someone to do it! Oh Ben, how could we find out for sure?"

Ben's breathing had quickened in furious contemplation. "If that damnable fop is responsible for this...It does make sense, Lissie: he cannot have you, therefore he decided to get revenge on your family by having your father shot. And without your father, then, I'll wager he figured that you would be forced to marry him so that your family could be supported!"

Felicity felt a hard wave of nausea wash over her and put a hand to her stomach. "Good God, Ben, what about _you_? What if he tries to have _you _killed next?"

"Impossible!" Ben stated flatly, as if that notion was the least likely thing to ever happen. "I did not survive five years of war and an infected hip wound just to fall to the likes of a lunatic's hired man! Oh no, Felicity Merriman, I am going to find who did this, or had it done, and I _will _make them sorry! I hope it _was _Forsythe, because then I can kill him right in the middle of 'Gloucester Street and no one could blame me!"

"Aye, well, you would have to reach him before _I _do, because I can run really fast in petticoats if I have to!" She shook as she said it, seeing within her mind's eye herself, going at Forsythe with both of her little fists flying.

Caught up in his anger at the unknown shooter, the worry for his master, and his love for the girl standing before him, he pulled Felicity to him again, finding comfort in the mere feel of her and the lavender scent of her hair. They found comfort in each other, their warmth and solidity. Ben absently rubbed a hand over her back as he stared into the crackling fire of the mini-kitchen's oven. He was very convinced now that it _was _Reginald Forsythe who was responsible for the shooting of Edward Merriman. He was determined to flay the little bastard with his own two hands.

It never occured to him that _he _had been the intended target.

CHAPTER FINISHED!


	25. Chapter 21: Jiggy Nye Takes A Stand

Felicity: an American Girl ROMANCE, pt.2, Ch.21: Jiggy Nye Takes A Stand

"God, God, God," Reginald Forsythe moaned dispairingly, smacking a pale hand to his forehead. "Fool! Imbecile! Jackass if ever there was one!"

He paced back and forth with tense, short steps in front of the seated Ezekiel Gooch in the tack room of the grand Templeton barn. As usual, the bored-faced Smedley stood near the door, hands clasped behind his back as he kept an ear out for any unwanted company. Before then sat the Gooch with his pipe hanging out of his mouth. The burly man's dark eyes rolled as the young lord from Bristol paced and swore like a spoiled prince.

Had he not been nursing a hangover, the Gooch would have found the odd young man's actions hilarious.

"Simpleton!" Forsythe raged as he paced the length of the small room. "Lackwit! Nincompoop!"

"Ye fergot 'dolt'," Gooch commented, his humor cynical.

"I was just getting to that!" Red-faced and on-edge, Forsythe stopped pacing and popped a hand to his forehead yet again. "Idiot! You were not supposed to shoot the girl's _father_! I am _not _paying you to kill the girl's father! And you were _not _supposed to be piss-drunk!" For emphasis, he slapped the back of one hand repeatedly into the open palm of the other as he raved _"Did I not specifically state that you were to be sober, you useless lump?"_

Gooch shrugged and chuckled lowly.

"My God! _My God!" _Forsythe took up the pacing again. 'Twas known now all over Williamsburg that Mr. Edward Merriman had been shot twice by an unseen assailant last night, and that people were being questioned. Merriman had not died, but he was in a serious way. The nervous young lord put his fists to his hips. "How on _earth _did you ever get a reputation for being the best sharp-shooter in the North?"

"With all due respect, my lord," said Smedley placidly, gazing down his nose at the Gooch, "he is no longer, as they say, 'up North'."

"Haw haw!" laughed the hunter. "Ol' Stiffy right about that! They gots good ale down here!"

Forsythe whirled, gesturing wide. "How can you be so unflappable this morning? Do you have any idea how much trouble this could cause if suspicions are cast my way? _Do you_?"

The Gooch grunted. "Aint no body gonna root you out, yer lordiness. I wasn't seen. I'll get it done th' next time."

"NEXT TIME?" Forsythe's voice went shrill. "You truly think I am going to allow you a second opportunity to ruin everything I have worked so hard to arrange? Oh nay, you fool, there shant _be _a next time!"

Smedley seemed to have heard something, for he quietly slipped out of the tack room.

"What about my payment?" Gooch demanded, straighteneing his roundy posture.

"What about it?" snapped Forsythe incredulously. His mind spun like mad. "I told you I'd pay you for getting rid of Benjamin Davidson. You did not. You shot the _wrong man_, fool!"

"But-"

"Do keep your hole shut for a minute, will you? I need to think!" Forsythe rubbed both sweating hands over his face. "Oh _damn _this day! I cannot endure an investigation with my plans so close to completion! I cannot-"

"My lord," said Smedley quietly, stepping back into the room and closing the door discreetly. In one hand he held a rectangular parchment sealed with regular brown wax. He handed it to the startled young man. "The delivery boy from the Raleigh just brought this. Perhaps it is news from New York."

Drawing his breath in anxiously, Forsythe snapped the wax and unfolded the parchment with trembling hands. Smedley watched the small hazel eyes dart about in their sockets as he read the letter. It took a mere ten seconds for Reginald's eyes to widen (as much as small eyes could), and his entire disposition changed from alarm-stricken to exuberant joy. He began to laugh-that eerie, humorless, crazed laughter such as one emits when they see that against all odds and obstacles that their hope has been attained. He reached out and grabbed Smedley by an arm. "It has happened, old man! It has arrived! Smedley, we are saved! We must set into motion the plan we discussed awhile back!"

Saul Smedley merely sighed.

Forsythe whirled about yet again to the Gooch, who sat puffing away on his pipe and watching the two gentlemen with fascination. "And as for _you_, you disappointing lout, 'twould be in your best interest for you to remain in our company for the rest of your stay here in the south! The last thing I need is for you to get drunk again and foul up my other plans! I may yet have a more suitable task for you."

"Such as...?" Gooch grinned toothily.

JIggy Nye wasn't doing too good these days. He had quit drinking somewhere close to five years ago, but the effects of his long addiction had already begun to take their toll on his insides. His skin and eye whites had a yellowish tint to them, he felt nauseated most of the time, but he wasn't about to let his failing health get the better of him. Not as long as there was still life in his body. Five years back he'd taken on an apprentice to his tannery business, grateful for the chance to live long enough to pass on the trade, and not even Cornwallis's occupation had put a dampener on his running a good business.

He'd used his stored supply of rum to keep the British properly soused so that they could not ruin his business. He'd used the very thing that had devastated his health to save his livelyhood.  
No, he knew he wasn't going to be in this world much longer, but he at least had the confidence that he would be leaving life behind with a clear, sober mind and the satisfaction of knowing he'd been absolved of all his previous sins. There was a certain calming peace in that. But until his day of reckoning came, he was _still _a working tanner and had a busines to attend to. Like dropping by the Templeton manor to fetch the aged cow Lady Lucinda Templeton had sold to him.

He could've made his apprentice, young Henry Moon, come out to the place and get the cow, but it _was _a nice, clear, crisp autumn morning here at the end of October. How many more beautiful mornings would he have to take a brisk walk like this? Nay, he'd get the old girl himself. He'd recently started paying for thirteen year old Henry to have lessons in reading, writing, arithmatic and latin under the tutilage of Mr. Arthur Pratt. Jiggy Nye felt that the lad ought to have some resourcefulness about him other than just the knowledge of a trade.

He never did get to have a living child of his own.

Henry Moon was a good lad. He was sure to excell at anything he did in life. Nye also had a feeling of confidence about that, too. It actually felt good to have had a positive influence on someone.  
He was just entering the gates of the Templeton estate, noticing how the ivy on the wrought iron gates was beginning to grow a little unruly, but 'twas known that Lady Templeton was in need of a new gardener. He scratched the back of his neck absently and headed for the barn, where he was supposed to pick up the old black cow. He could see her tied to a post just inside the paddock by the barn.

Just as he got to the paddock, however, he heard voices, alternating between low and loud, irate and questioning. One of the voices was a young man's; Lady Templeton's nephew, no doubt. Mr. Nye had met him once before, briefly. The other voice was a gravely rough one, but it, too, was British accented. The voices seemed to be arguing about something of grave importance, or so it seemed, so as long as no one knew he was out here...what could it do to listen and find out what was so darned urgent?

Forsythe, Smedley and the Gooch had moved out of the tack room, finding it had become too stifiling with their blood pressures rising due to the stress, excitement and aggravation.  
Jiggy Nye crept to the slightly parted barn doors and leaned toward them, listening...

"How 'bout accusin' 'er of witchcraft?" the Gooch was suggesting. "You could say she put a hex on ye!"

"Nonsense!" Forsythe replied dismissively with a wave of his hand. "This is the age of reason, you twit, no one believes in that rubbish anymore!"

"Most of the older folk do!"

"And just what proof would we have of _that_, anyway?" Forsythe wanted to know irately, for the hell of it.

Gooch chuckled. "Welp, the way ye dress, for one thing..."

"Idiot! Be serious! We must think of something believable, and right quick. If Felicity is to be mine once and for all, we've got to make this work. Timing is everything!"

The Merriman girl? Jiggy Nye frowned. What did this odd young English Lord want with Edward Merriman's eldest daughter?

"My lord," began Smedley carefully, as if daring to approach his new idea ever so delicately, "are you still in possession of your mother's _powders_?"

"Indeed I am." Forsythe sounded unimpressed. "Since she is not here, they are of little use to me. Why ask?" When the old butler did not reply right away but instead looked him in the eye knowingly, Reginald's head cocked curiously, his hazel eyes narrowing. He could definately sense something. "Smedley...what are you suggesting?"

The usually dormant butler looked contemplative. "Perhaps they could be useful in an act of trickery..."

One of of Forsythe's eyebrows went up. "Go on..."

"Miss Merriman has, within her circle of friends, a rather comical lad by the name of Arthur Pratt, who is due to marry her other friend, Miss Cole, my lord."

He studied the older man's crafty grey eyes, and a smile began to spread carefully across his face as the dawning of a new idea came to light in the young lord's mind. "Pray, Smedley, tell me more..."  
And Jiggy Nye listened. His eyes grew wide as he heard the plan unfold between the two gentlwmen. He could not believe the things he was hearing! He needn't wonder why the strange lord from Bristol had an interest in Felicity Merriman-Reginald Forsythe was obsessed with the girl! But to do the things to her that he was eavesdropping on? Why, this was appalling! And poor Arthur Pratt! As if the Merriman family did not have enough to deal with already, what with Edward's shooting!

_Wait a minute... _Mr. Nye thought with incredible realization...

"Are ye sayin' ye don' want me to shoot th' other fellow now?" the Gooch inquired, wanting to be certain.

"That is exactly what I'm saying, lackwit!" Forsythe scolded authoratively. "We would not be having to go to all of this trouble if you had shot the right man in the first place! If you can stay sober long enough to carry out your part of the plan, you will be able to afford all the ale you want for the rest of your uncouth life!"

"Haw haw!" laughed the Gooch.

_Dear Lord!_ Jiggy Nye drew back from the door, his head absolutely spinning from all that he had absorbed. Reginald Forsythe was mentally sick! And 'twas Forsythe who was behind Mr. Merriman's shooting! He'd meant to have Ben Davidson killed..._all so he could have Felicity Merriman for himself! _Sick, sick young man.

Nye could not allow this, couldn't let one of Virginia's most decent, respectable families be devastated like this. The poor Merriman girl, she did not deserve such a nightmare as the one Lord Forsythe had planned for her. No one deserved that. He had to get help, get a constable, do _something_!

He staggered back away from the barn doors, but his equilibrium was so bad off that he spun dizzily, fell against the paddock gate, which in turn groaned and creaked threateningly against having the weight of even an ailing elderly man thrust upon it. The creak and groan of the wood was, most unfortunately, loud.

"What the devil was _that_?" Forsythe turned toward the barn doors. "Is there someone _out there_?"

"Go see," suggested the Gooch, greatly amused.

In two short strides Forsythe was at the barn doors, flinging them open all the way as he stepped out. He was followed by Smedley and Gooch, both of whom were just as curious as he was. The trio saw the back of the white-headed, limping Jiggy Nye heading as fast as his legs could carry him toward the ivy-covered gates.

"That old man!" exclaimed Forsythe, turning an unusual shade of pale. "Who is he?"

Smedley frowned. "I do believe that is the tannery-man, a Mr. Nye. He was due to collect your Aunt's old cow this morning."

Reginald was beginning to near hysterics. "Well he sure as bloody hell isn't in possession of _any _sort of bovine, now is he? That man heard our scheme! He-he's going to the authorities! We've got to stop him!" He turned to the Gooch, who was bug-eyed, and nearly squealed, "Go get him, man!"

The Gooch chuckled. "And what do ye suppose I am to do with 'im?"

"Just-well-you have to-!" Forsythe nearly choked on his own panic. He was breaking out into cold sweats on top of that. He clenched his teeth in wild frustration. "Good God, man, saddle two horses, quickly!"

"Wot?" Gooch looked the young man up and down in disgusted belief. "I aint no stable boy!"

"JUST DO IT!"

Gooch grumbled under his breath and went. "It aint as tho' 'e'll get anywheres fast, y'know."

Impatient, panicked, over-stressed, Forsythe was up on the first horse that the Gooch got saddled within seven minutes. He pointed to the grey gelding beside his own brown one. "Just put a bridle on that one, and let us go!'

Gooch continued to grumble his displeasure at being told to do servant's work, but did as he was told anyway. Being accustomed to riding bareback, it was no extra hardship to get his bulk up on the tolerant animal, and he was the first one out of the barn as he and the anxiety-attacked young lord took off after Jiggy Nye.

"What're ye gonna do when we catch 'im?" Gooch asked curiously.

Forsythe pouted determinedly. "Why, silence him, of course."

He had lost his wind just as soon as he got outside of the Templeton estate. No way could he make haste _anywhere _in his physical condition. He could walk, but not fast anymore, and his body didn't even want to cooperate with that! Jiggy Nye knew what his liquor-damaged insides were telling him: Get home. It is time. And there is _still _something that you can do to help the poor Merriman girl, God willing. Get home now!

His right side hurt like it was being cut with a knife, but it was not his failing body that had him in the most anguish. 'Twas rumored that sometimes a person's senses became sharpest just before they passed on; that they briefly gained a sense of clarity about life and death that had been unknown to them when they were still in good health. Never had Josiah 'Jiggy' Nye's senses and mental awareness been so clear as they were at this moment, when everything depended on his making it back to his house. He _didn't _need any special kind of clarity to tell him that he would most likely be followed, that Lord Forsythe was not the sort to let an elderly, half-dead ex-drunkard go free after the kinds of shocking things he had just overheard!

Loathsome little bastard, this Reginald Forsythe!

Mr. Nye didn't have the strength to go on into town as he had first intended. He took a shortcut to his home. Young henry Moon would not be there, as he was at his lessons with the affiable Mr. Pratt (who would be just another innocent victim of Forsythe's mad plan, Nye thought angrily), but it was, perhaps, for the better. He would not want young Henry to bear witness or walk in on what Nye assumed (with this new clarity of his) was going to be happening.

Felicity Merriman. Kind-hearted, spirited little imp who not only saved a good horse from his own drunken madness, but saved himself from his _own _self-destruction as well. Got him started back on the path to decency. How long ago had it been? Six years ago? He'd started attending church again. He'd taken in Henry Moon. People had started to like him again. Felicity Merriman most likely saved his life-helped him save his own life, if only for a few more years. Long enough to make a difference. He owed the bright young lady his gratitiude. Surely there was one last thing he could do to try to help save _her _life...

Five precious minutes was all he had alone in his house before they came. But five minutes had been enough. He was ready for them. Sitting at his desk, waiting. And as he heard the horses halt their trot in front of his house, he cast a glance over the top of his desk, which was over-strewn with parchment papers; orders, bills, reciepts, _Virginia Gazettes_, used quills and ink pots, but his old eyes wanted to see only one thing in particular: the miniature oval painting of his long deceased wife, Mary. Painted when they had been only newlyweds. Her blue eyes looked back at him from the tiny portrait on his desk, from a kind, round face framed in light brown locks. The love of his life, gone too soon...gone with the infant son she had been trying to deliver.  
_Soon, Mary. Soon..._

He had even left the door open for them.

"Mr. Nye," the slow and silky-voiced young lord from Bristol oozed as he entered the doorway carefully. "Expecting a visitor, are we?"

"Aye," the old man agreed with a short nod. "The both o' ye."

"Are you referring to my companion?" Forsythe glanced over his shoulder at the Gooch coming in after having secured both horses to a post. "Then you must be fully aware that we need to have a little... talk."

Jiggy Nye grunted skeptically. "Is that what you want to call it? I may be dyin' but I aint stupid, boy. I know you aim to kill me on account of what I heard. But you aint killin' me until I've had my say."

Forsythe moved on into the room, followed by the hulking Gooch, his small hazel eyes regarding the sick old man with stiff curiosity. He glanced about the small room with pursed lips. "You know, I've been here before. Not in this very room or this house, of course, but to your tannery establishment around the back. 'Twas before I left for Bristol this last time. My Auntie was in search of lamb's leather gloves."

Nye could care less. "Does your 'Auntie' know what you're up to, boy?"

Forsythe made a sour face. "Of course not. She is far too busy with my sick uncle to occupy herself with my comings and goings. Besides," he added, idly slapping a riding glove into his open palm, "we can both concur that she would not find my, ah, _personal endeavors _of the moment very much to her liking."

"Ye don' say." Nye gazed back at the disturbed young man with a fearless snarl. "People of this town have a fine opinion of your Aunt, whether she's a Loyalist or not. She's an admirable person-kind, caring and respectful. How the hell could you be any kin of hers? How could you be so blackhearted toward a girl that aint hurt nuthin' or nobody?"`

Forsythe huffed. He actually seemed amused by the old man's anger. "That is very interesting talk for a man whom people once went out of their way to avoid."

"_I _saw the error of my ways, with the help of the Merriman girl. _You _could stop this- stop it right now." Nye's gaze slipped, his jaw clenched as he considered something and said evenly, "Leave the girl alone and I'll keep mum 'bout all I heard pass in your barn."

Gooch looked from Nye to Forsythe. "He aint but half-dead, yer lordship. Look at 'im. Probly won't live another week."

Reginald spared the burly hunter an irritated look. "Going soft, Mr. Gooch? Need I remind you who is paying you a ridiculous amount of money to do as I say?"

Jiggy Nye expected such a reply as that. The young man was obviously hell-bent on his plans. With a slow and steady hand that defied his failing body's weakness, he began reaching for his lower right desk drawer as he held Forsythe's unblinking gaze. "I'm tellin' ye, boy, don't do this. Don't you hurt that family any more'n ye already have. The evil you do'll come back to bite ye in the ass."

"Mr. Nye," Forsythe began, with an eerie sympathy that was anything _but _sympathetic, "I did not mean for things to go this far, you understand. But each of us has a path to follow, and mine has led me to Felicity Merriman. I cannot, nor will not, let anything or anyone furthur delay my future with the young woman I have chosen to be my wife. None of this was meant to be your concern, Mr. Nye, but since you have made it so, I am afraid that I must see to it that you are _relieved _of that concern. Think of it this way, old fellow; I will be sparing you the agony of whatever diseased condition is draining the life from you even now as we speak." He smiled his comfort icily.

"God, but you are a vile brute," Nye spat angrily. His right hand _sloooowly _pulled the drawer out and slipped into it. "May the devil himself eat your heart out!"

Forsythe raised his chin with victorious superiority. "Mr. Gooch?"

"Huh?"

"Kill him."

As the young lord stepped back, Gooch stepped forward, drawing his right-hand pistol from its holster, He pointed it at Jiggy Nye's chest, dead-center. "So long old fella."

POW!

Close-range, no room for error. Mr. Nye slumped to his left, stone-dead.

"We best leave now," Gooch suggested, the wisp of smoke still drifting from the gun's barrel. He blew off the barrel's end and slipped the weapon back down into its holster.

"A sensible notion," agreed Forsythe, relieved yet still on edge. But as he turned toward the door, something about the way the deceased Jiggy Nye was positioned caught his eye and he stopped. "Wait. Come here a moment, Gooch."

"Whut now, yer lordship?"

"What is that he was reaching for? Why is he reaching like that?"

Gooch stomped over to Jiggy Nye's still form and looked him over, his scraggly 'coon-skinned head following the length of the dead arm to the desk drawer. He bent over a bit to see what the hand was reaching for. With a grin that showed tobacco-stained teeth, the Gooch straightened up. "'E's got himself a lil' pistol in a drawer here! Not very quick, is 'e?"

Forsythe's mouth crinkled in distaste. "Fortunately for us! As you said, he was already half-dead."

"Want me to take it?"

"Nay. Let people wonder about it when they find him. Now let us _do _go before someone comes poking about!" Forsythe spun on his embroidered heel and strode out, followed by the Gooch, who yawned passively and scratched under his armpit.

What Gooch failed to understand was that it was _not _the little pistol poor Jiggy Nye was reaching for. In his last effort to help Felicity Merriman and her family, he'd rested his hand upon a hastily scribbled and overturned note to Mr. Merriman telling of Lord Forsythe's hideous plot.

CHAPTER FINISHED!

Author's Note: I've always wondered what Jiggy Nye's life was like before he began drinking and after Felicity came along. Do you readers have your own assumptions? Do share!


	26. Chapter 22: A WellLaid Trap

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, pt.2, ch.22: A Well-Laid Trap

Felicity was restless, more so than ususal. 'Twas the following afternoon after her father's shooting, and despite having hardly slept during the night she was distracted and brooding. She wanted to find Reginald Forsythe and knock him around until he confessed. Ben had talked to the constable late last night, reported all that he had seen and heard-which had not been much, unfortunately, but the constable was very willing to ride out to Templeton Manor and question Lord Forsythe later that morning. There had been no word about _anything _yet.  
But word had indeed spread through the town (as all worthy occurences are prone to do), and unsurprisingly, Elizabeth Cole was at the door at first light. Felicity had answered, and without a single word needing to be uttered, was gathered into the arms of her best friend.

Mr. Merriman had remained in the parlor, with the sofa as his bed, Martha at his side. He slept in fits, weakened by the loss of blood, his breathing at times labored. He was not feverish, but he shivered off and on. Martha gave him chicken broth and brandy, alternatively. She kept a hawk-eye on him, on his wounds' dressings, spoke to him in soft, loving whispers and stroked his face. She absolutely would not leave his side.

As if anyone expected her to.

Felicity and Nan kept themselves composed for Polly and William's sake. Elizabeth was a tremendous help in keeping the younger two occupied. But Felicity seemed to be on the edge of bursting, and Ben had been the first to notice that morning. "Something is on your mind, Lissie," he said worriedly, catching her alone out in the big kitchen. "I know that look on your pretty face."

"Is it not obvious?" she replied tightly, as Ben pulled her away from her bread-making with his hands upon her hips. "My father nearly died from being shot-and still _could _die. The bastard we both know is responsible will most likely get away with it since there is no proof, and I feel like my entire life is out of my hands!" Her scowl was ferocious. "Ben, I just can't shake the feeling that we are merely marionettes and someone else is holding our strings!"

He rubbed her arms up and down with tremendous affection. "Your father will recover, love. You get your amazing will power from him, so you know _he _is not going to give up so easily! He survived the night; he will _continue _to survive. 'Tis natural to feel this way, Lissie. And if we have not heard from Constable Wallace by early this evening, then I shall ride out to Templeton Manor and thrash Forsythe myself!"

"Oh do take me with you, Ben!" Felicity cried, her rage clearly pleading for release. "Give me the chance to get a few licks in!"

Despite all, Ben grinned irresistably. "I never could refuse you, pretty Lissie. Consider it an early wedding present!"

Her forehead dropped onto his chest. "Must you go to the store today?"

"Aye, I must. For a while, anyway." His lips moved murmuringly on her soft white mobcap. "A good soldier goes on fighting even when his General is down."

"I will try to be a good soldier, too." She lifted her face and gave him her best confident smile, but it was also pained.

He loved her so damn much that he wished with all of his heart that he could just sink himself into her prescious being right then and there. If he dared wait a minute longer, he would not be able to keep from it. He crushed her to him and she did not resist in the slightest. "I want to look in on your father before I leave. But before I even do that, I must have those lips..."

_Have all of me, Ben Davidson, _Felicity thought deliriously as he kissed her so hard and so deeply that she had to grab onto his muscled neck to keep from collapsing into a puddle on the floor at his boots. It was always like this when they kissed; he dominated her mouth with his rough and hungry tongue, held her so that she went limp and mushy like a ragged flop-doll. Her eyes rolled back, their lids fluttered shut and she gave herself over to the intensity of his kiss.

Ben went to open the store. Elizabeth came to offer any help she could. Felicity continued to feel angry and helpless. As a matter of fact, 'twas nearing six o'clock when she emerged from the parlor having just taken chicken soup for her mother to feed her groggy father, and she looked strained and exhausted.

"Lissie?" Elizabeth asked with concern when her friend sauntered into the mini-kitchen. "Are you well? How is your father?" Polly and William were at the prep table, eating beans and ham, and looked at their eldest sister with faces that asked the same questions.

"He is awake," Felicity replied in a distracted mumble. She stood beside Elizabeth, who was pouring cold milk into glasses for the four of them. "He took hold of my hand and told me to stay nearby. Nan is sitting with him now while Mother sleeps in an arm chair. He is so pale...so weak." She shook her head as she stared at the table top. In her mind she saw her brave, strong father lying on the sofa, bearing his pain and struggling to stay awake. "God, I cannot believe this has happened, Beth..."

"I know, dearest Lisse," Elizabeth consoled in deep sympathy. "I have thought about it all day, and I cannot think of a single soul in Williamsburg that would want to hurt your father...with the exception of Lord Reginald Forsythe. I just cannot imagine the shooter merely being some drunkard out stumbling around with a loaded pistol! 'Tis _my _understanding that drunks cannot think nor see clearly, _especially _in the dark!"

Felicity nodded absently. "Unless the drunk was a sharp-shooter. But even then, would he still be able to shoot correctly?"

William spoke with amazing adult-like reason. "Maybe he was not all _that _drunk!"

"Aye! Maybe he was not drunk at all and simply did what Forsythe paid him to do!" Felicity sighed heavily. "I'm so afraid we'll never know."

"I hate that For-site fellow!" Polly spoke up, glaring into her glass of milk as she swung her legs angrily under the table. "Why won't he leave us alone?"

'Twas William who answered, "Because he's spoiled and rich and wants to marry Lissie, and he hates Father for not letting him marry her! Isn't that right, Lissie?" He looked up at her with blue eyes seeking affirmation.

"Aye, William," Felicity confirmed dourly.

"He hates Ben, too," Elizabeth murmured in loathful thought. "And I thought he would hate Ben even more than your father since Ben is the one who is going to marry you!"

Felicity nodded again. "Where _is _Ben? 'Tis past time for him to be home and it is nearly dark. Lord, I hope he has not been hurt, too!" She thought intensely. "And I hope he has not gone out to Templeton Manor without me! Oh, I've _got _to know whether he has left the store or not!" Immediately she began unpinning her apron from her buttery yellow dress.

Elizabeth looked worried right away. "Are you serious? Lissie you are not supposed to leave the house unescorted! And especially at night!"

"Oh fiddle-faddle, Beth! I will be perfectly fine! The store is just down the road, and I know how to sneak about in the dark just as well as any sharp-shooter myself! If there _is _anyone out there, they will need to be afraid of _me_!"

"That's our Lisse," William grinned as his older sister plunked her apron down on the bench.

"Please, Beth, do not say anything to Nan or Mother about me going out looking for Ben-and you two keep mum as well. But if anyone does want to know my whereabouts, then just tell them I desperately needed some fresh air, which is the truth, because I really, really do, and there was nothing you could do to stop me, which there really is not!" She strode to the backdoor, beside which hung her red winter cloak on a peg, for she had been going in and out to the big kitchen all day. She swiftly flung it on, tying the neck strings as she said, "And if Ben gets here before I do, tell him I went to do some investigating of my _own_!"

"Felicity, please reconsider," Elizabeth appealed, frightfully concerned for her friend.

Felicity looked at William. "We want answers, do we not, Mr. William?"

"Aye!" agreed William supportively.

"Well, then, I shall go and get them!" Felicity's face was more set with unstoppable determination than Elizabeth had ever seen before. "I cannot just sit or stand around here, doing nothing but worry and wonder about all the 'what-if's'! I've drank enough coffee to kill a cow and baked enough bread to feed all of Williamsburg! I have to do this, Beth. And besides..." She half-opened the door. "Did you not say earlier that you wondered what was keeping _Arthur_, who was supposed to be here as well?"

"W-Well, yes," Elizabeth stuttered, having momentarilly forgotten her fiance's lateness in Felicity's sudden haste. "He-he is supposed to meet me here..._was _supposed to meet me here, indeed..."  
Felicity gave her a slanting smile. "Then I shall find _him_, too, and fetch them both back!"

Elizabeth still looked gravely uncertain. "Well...I suppose...At least you would then have an escort."

"I shall have _two _if I should stumble across Ben!" Felicity informed them with a grin. "Just do not worry so!"

"Good luck, Lissie!" called Polly encouragingly.

She gave them all her best positive grin. "Thank you, Rabbit. See you later!" Then she was gone, closing the door gently behind her and moving quickly out into the evening shadows.

Soon she would be wishing she had never left the house that night.

Ben was not at the store. In fact, the store was already closed, but then Felicity had expected that. It was _supposed _to be closed by six o'clock. So where was Ben? She lifted up the hem of her skirts and trotted off to Queen's Street in search of Arthur Pratt. The streets were not deserted of people yet, so it was not like she was utterly alone. Pratt's Jewelry and Silversmithing was closed as well, but she had assumed it would be as well. She ran around back to the house part of the building, knocked daintily, and was greeted by Arthur's own chubby, giggly-sweet mother, Agnes.

"Why it's little Miss Merriman!" giggled the rosy-cheeked woman happily. "What brings you by, my dear? Do come in and have a cup of hot rum-tea and a laugh with Mr. Pratt and myself!"

"Good evening, Mrs. Pratt," Felicity said hurriedly, giving a short curtsy, "i would very much love to have rum-tea with you and your Mr., but I need to hurry back to my father and I must find-"

"Oh yes indded! Your poor father!" One of 's lace-gloved hands flew to her buxom chest in genuine sympathy. "How is he, dear? Is there anything my Mr. and I can do?"

"He is weak, but he is still with us, thank you, ma'am," Felicity babbled quickly. "But could you tell me where Arthur is? Elizabeth is at my house, wondering why he has not yet arrived."

Mrs. Pratt's hand went up to her cheek in wonder. "Hmmm, let me see...he is not here, that is for certain, and if he is not at dear Elizabeth's side, then he must still be with a student...but he never has been this late before. Oh my...he must be at the Wetherburn Tavern! Yes, dear, I do believe you will find him at the Tavern, for he often stops by there for a slice of mince-meat pie and a hot toddy!"

"Thank you, ma'am. I must be off now. Good evening." Again Felicity curtsied, picked up her hems, and made off back in the direction of Duke of Gloucester Street.

"Good evening to you too, Miss Merriman!" Agnes Pratt called after her cheerfully. "Give my best to your family!"

"I will!"

Felicity actually felt glad to be jogging in this invigorating cool evening air. It felt good to be running off the tension and feelings of helplessness. _How can anyone believe it is not good for women to have exercise? _she wondered incredulously. _Without it I would be impossible to live with! _She ran right past her father's store to Wetherburn's Tavern and slowed to a brisk walk, her heart banging energetically in her ribs. She had even considered the possiblity of Ben being in there with Arthur, and that the two were just talking about things...about going out to Templeton Manor to thrash Forsythe even! If that was the case, then she would be extra glad to have found the both of them together!

She smoothed out her skirts, pulled the red hood off of her head, took a deep breath and opened the door. Instantly, the warmth of the room's big fireplace washed over her. The room was not full on this particular night, so with the execption of a few heads looking up to see who had come in, no one really noticed her at all. She scanned the room, looking for recognizable faces, then spotted Arthur Pratt, sitting at the back of the room. Ben was not with him...

...but Arthur was not alone, either.

There was a man sitting across from him, a man who's face Felicity could not see, for his _roundish_, _hulking _back was to her. He wore a coon-skin hat over scraggly black hair and, from what Felicity could see of the man, fringed hunting attire and boots made of some kind of furry skin. _How odd, _thought she, flummoxed, _who could that be?_

She was about to find out, for Arthur spotted _her_, stood up, and beckoned delightedly for her to come over. As she did, the burly man turned about in his seat slowly, saw her and grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth. He, too, stood up, reached over to the empty nieghboring table, and grabbed an empty chair for her to sit in at their table.

Felicity studied the man: he was roguish-looking, with a round face that had black beard stubble all over its bottom half, dark eyes, bushy black eyebrows, and a grin that she found at once to be unlikeable. It unnerved her right away the way he was staring at her...like he was amused about something, some joke that only he was aware of.

In essence, he gave her the creeps.

Arthur, too, was beaming, but his humor was different than that of the stranger's. Arthur was just being Arthur. He held the chair-back for her and said, "Do join us, dear Felicity! We are celebrating my upcoming nuptuals! Allow me to introduce you to 'The Gooch'!"

"Ma'am!" The Gooch doofed his coon-skin to her as she sat down uncertainly beside of Arthur.

"_'The' _Gooch?" she inquired, finding the title, name, or whatever it was, to be most peculiar. "I would say that it is a pleasure to meet you-" (and her nervous eyes showed clearly that it _wasn't_) "- but I have never heard of such a name before. Why are you called 'The Gooch'?"

"Haw haw!" the big hunter laughed as he and Arthur sat back down. "Me name's _Ezekiel _Gooch, lil' miss! But back where I come from, when I was a lad, th' other lads thought my name sounded like an ogre's name. The kind of name a troll livin' under a bridge might have. It did'n help that I was a roundy lad, big fer m'age, as they say, so the lads started callin' me _The _Gooch, and it jus' took on from there!"

"I see." Knowing this did not make Felicity feel any better about The Gooch's _presence_. "So you are from England as well?"

"Aye, Miss. London, t'be exact. Came over with me old man to hunt in the Northern Territories. Been here ever since!"

"Mr. Gooch," beamed Arthur, "this fine young lady is my dear friend Felicity Merriman, also the dearest friend of my intended."

Gooch scratched his stubbly chin. "Aint there a store in town called Merriman's?"

"Yes," replied Felicity politely. "'Tis my father's store." She frowned. What on earth was Arthur doing, keeping company with a crude man like this 'Gooch'? She could not relax in the big man's presence, but she was curious. "What brings you to Williamsburg, Mr. Gooch?"

"This is where all th' excitement is, aint it?" He slapped the top of the round table with so much enthusiasm that it made Felicity jump. "_I'm _here fer the job opportunities, lil' Missy! Those Frenchies are gonna need provisions fer th' winter, things like furs and skins." He thrust a thumb at himself. "That's me area of expertise! I hunt game an' sell th' skins an' pelts. And I hears that th' huntin' is good here in th' South. What with th' war all but done, a man's got to make a shilling somehow, so I to go where th' work is, see?"

Felicity nodded, but she was still stumped. "How do you know my friend, Arthur Pratt?"

Arthur spoke up with a smile. "Oh, we are not formal acquaintances, dearest Lissie. We met just this evening, when I came in for my slice of mince-meat pie and a hot toddy. Mr. Gooch came in not a minute after I did, overheard me order my hot toddy in my fine English tongue, and here we are, talking of life back in our old mother country!"

Felicity distractedly seemed to be only semi-satisfied with that explanation, and as Arthur did not seem to be the slightest bit bothered by the burly rogue, she let herself relax a little. But only a little. "That is nice, Arthur, I suppose, but I am looking for Ben. Have you seen him at all anywhere?"

"Nay, I have not!" exclaimed the young blond Brit with immediate concern.

"Well, the store is already closed. Elizabeth is at my house, waiting for _you _as well."

Arthur blushed and said sheepishly, "I am sorry about that, Felicity, I did not intend to be late. I just lost all sense of time after I got to talking with Mr. Gooch here. Perhaps we should go now and see if Ben has anything new to tell us."

"Hey now!" protested the Gooch right away. "Surely ye aint leavin' without toastin' to your weddin'! We agreed we'd have a drink to wedded bliss!"

Felicity looked at Arthur curiously.

"Ah, yes, so I did," Arthur admitted with a smile. "Perhaps we could have that toast another time, since-"

"Nonsense, Pratt!" Gooch rose and began fishing around in his belt-pouch for coins. "Ye got time fer one drink, don' ye?"

"Well, no, not really-"

"Sure ye do! Haw haw! An Englishman always keeps 'is word!" Grinning mischeviously, he jingled coins in one of his huge hands. "An' the lovely Miss here can drink along with us!"

Felicity sighed, looking exasperated. "I am not much of a drinker, Mr. Gooch. My friend and I really do need to be going-"

"Aw, please," interrupted the Gooch yet again, pretending to be wounded. "Jes' one drink-a toast to yer friend's happiness! Ye cannot deny 'im that!"

Arthur and Felicity exchanged a questioning look.

To furthur plead the gesture, Gooch jingled his coins again and said, "An' I'll even buy! It's an honor t'drink to th' happiness of a fellow countryman! Nogs fer the three of us, in honor of Mr. Pratt and his lovely soon-to-be _Mrs_. Pratt!"

"Oh, all right," Felicity relented, looking strained and uncomfortable, but unable to resisit Arthur's pleading blue puppy-dog eyes. "But we must not be too long about it."

"Won't be but a minute, lass!" Gooch exclaimed, looking oddly excited. He strode up to the man behind the counter and plunked his coins down with immense enthusiasm. _Perhaps too much enthusiasm_, thought Felicity, shaking her head wonderingly.

"Thank you, dearest Lissie," said Arthur, turning to her in his seat. "'Twill only take a moment. The big chap does seem to be a bit..._rude_, I know, but he means well."

"_You _are too kind, Arthur Pratt," stated Felicity, with a half-smile. "Always wanting everyone to like you. You needn't bend over backwards to please people, you know. True friends will like you no matter what, whether you choose to _drink _with them or not."

"I know, I know!" Arthur whined of himself. "I just cannot refuse a fellow Englishman wanting to toast to my marriage-or _anyone _wanting to toast to my marriage for that matter! 'Tis not like I shall ever see the big bloke again. I just want everyone to be as happy as I am. After all, in a couple of days I shall be Mr. Elizabeth Cole!"

Despite all, Felicity chuckled.

"So how is your father faring today, my friend?"

"Weakly," Felicity replied stressfully. "He will eat a little bit, sleep a little bit, try to take deep breaths, try to talk...he _is _fighting. He _is _strong. He will not die, Arthur." In a softer, more wishful voice, she added, "He cannot die. We...we cannot bear to loose him." Emotion nearly had her strangling.

Arthur laid a consoling hand upon hers. "And you will not! With so many prayers being spoken for him today, I feel most confident that the Lord will bless Edward Merriman with longer life!"

"Thank you, Arthur," Felicity whispered softly. "You are quite a dear."

They both looked up as the Gooch came lumbering back to the table, smiling heartily. "Here we are! A nog fer me, a nog fer the groom, and a nog fer the lil' lady!" He sat his trio of mugs full of creamy, foamy, thick-looking drinks down on the table-top. Reluctantly, Felicity reached for the one nearest her, momentarily too distracted to see that the Gooch was watching her closely. Arthur took a mug without a second thought. Gooch raised his and nodded to his young acquaintances.

"To Arthur Pratt!" Gooch said cheerfully, "may ye have long life as a married man, may yer wife keep a pleasing figure, and may all yer children take after your side of the family!"

"Hear, hear!" agreed Arthur, with gusto. Felicity merely smiled the smallest of smiles, and the three mugs clacked together in unison. The Gooch chugged away, watching Felicity out of the corner of an eye as she drank only a little. Arthur was gulping his quite enthusiastically.

With his eyes still on Felicity, Gooch said, "Good strong drink on a chilly night, what could be better? One more toast, this time to the lil' lady here! To the charming Miss Merriman, may your life always be full of unexpected surprises!"

Felicity blinked, somewhat startled by such an odd tribute, as Arthur raised his mug to her then drank without stopping. "Drink up, Missy," Gooch encouraged with a grin. "It'll keep ye warm in the cold night air. I love a good nog before bed, meself!"

Felicity shrugged and drank, finding her nog to be thick, rich and rummy. There was a little bit of a strange aftertaste to it, but even her own mother's recipe for egg nog had a different taste to it. Everyone's nogs, toddys and syllabubs had something different about them. She felt the dense, creamy concoction flow down her throat and thought no more about it.

Unfortunately.

"Well, Pratt," announced the Gooch, with pleasant satisfaction at seeing two empty mugs get put down on the table-top with his, "I'm supposin' you best be on yer way now. I've taken up enough of yer time. Give me best to yer intended!" He grinned toothily at Felicity as she rose from her seat beside Arthur, doffed his coon-skin. "Good evenin', lil' Miss!'

"Thank you, Mr. Gooch, likewise," Felicity murmured politely, glad to be leaving. As soon as she stood, however, she wobbled a bit, and was surprised to find herself a bit light-headed. But that she immediately attributed to the quantity of rum in the nog. She was not a liquor drinker by habit, so naturally (she believed) a drink with even a little bit of rum in it would affect her indeed.

Arthur, too, seemed to be a bit tipsy. He hiccuped and blinked in surprise at himself, smiled and said, "Oh my-_'Twas _rather a strong drink, wasn't it!"

"Haw haw!" laughed the Gooch with a gleam in his dark eyes. "'Tis good stuff they serve here, I told ye! Help ye sleep like ye was a baby!"

Arthur patted his stomach. "Well! I cannot find fault with that, now can I? Good evening to you, Gooch. May you find work and have successful success in your-*hic!*-furs and skins endeavors!" In amused distraction he wondered aloud, "Oh dear, I guess this means I am going to start babbling in Latin now!"

"Come along, Arthur. Let's go find Ben," Felicity sugested gently, taking hold of his arm at the elbow. With her other hand, she drew her red cloak together, and together she and Arthur left the tavern's warmth and calming atmosphere. Leaving the Gooch, who sat there a moment after they had gone, contemplating with a crooked smile.

Then he, too, rose and left. His directions were being carrried out quite easily.

Heading out into the cold night air didn't help Felicity or Arthur clear their dulled senses like she had hoped it would. If anything, Felicity felt herself getting more and more foggy-headed with each step. Arthur had begun to hum some insensible tune, with a sloppy smile on his face. He looked at her, blinked his eyes rapidly and asked, "Where are we going, friend Felicity?"

"My house, Arthur."

"Oh nay, nay, we must'nt!" Arthur stopped abruptly, yanking the startled Felicity back. "We must not let Elizabeth see me like this!"

"Arthur, really!" Felicity scolded, beginning to feel rather goofy herself. "Beth does not care if you are tipsy."

"But _I _do!" persisted Arthur pleadingly. "I feel all ninnified-*hic!*-and stupid, and I do not wish for your kind family to see me so ignorantly imbibed. I am ashamed, boo hoo, of myself. **_Sic ad nauseum_!"

"Arthur, I must find Ben. I need to go with him out to-"

"Oh Felicity, pleeeeease!" Arthur begged, clasping his hands together at his chest in a gesture of despair. "Please do not let anyone see me any more daft than I-*hic!*- already am! Oh, *_ad absurdum_!" he moaned pitifully. "Let us go somewhere and have a cup of coffee to clear our heads!"

Now that idea appealed to Felicity as well, for she had no desire to have Ben, Elizabeth and Nan see her tipsy to the point of absurdity as well. "Where, Arthur? Your parents' house?"

"Nay! Mama will try to detain us further with cards and cake."

Felicity believed this to be all too true, so she tried again. "Elizabeth's house, then?"

"Oh nay, not there, either! I would hate for Mother Cole to see me intoxicated, too! And that gloating *hic!* Bananabelle! I'd never hear the end if it- you know what our Beth's sister is like! Were I sober, I would not be telling you that that Bananabelle is an absolute _cow_. Like I just did."

She just couldn't help but giggle at that. "Oh she is indeed! Yes indeedy-do! Doo-dee-deedy-doo!" Now she felt really silly. _Drunk _silly. "Oh goodness, Arthur, I think _I've _forgotten where I've put my wits all of a sudden!"

"Perhaps you left them at the Wedderburn-er, the Webberburn-the uh, TAVERN!" He blinked, dazed, then grinned drowzily again. "Shall we go back and fetch them?"

"Nay." Felicity's own smile had gotten broad and dopey. "That Gooch-person will want to drink a toast to them." She patted Arthur's shoulder."I'll just get some more at home." Then she looked around them, unaware that they had been walking again. "Now where the blazes are we?"

"Williamsburg!" Arthur giggled inanely. "Far as I reckon."

"Hmph! 'Reckon.'" Felicity's expression turned comically contemplative. "That is a very funny word, 'reckon.' Reckon, reckon, reckon."

Arthur grinned giddily. "You know what _I _think is a funny word?"

"Tell!"

"'Foot!' It just always sounded funny to me! Ooo, I think I know where we are!"

"Where?" She gripped Arthur's arm, for she had a ferocious wave of dizziness wash over her, and a maddening urge to start skipping. 'Twas improper for a gentlewoman to skip, she thought humorously, _especially after dark_.

"Near the house I bought for Elizabeth and I to live in after we are weddeded-ded-ded." He snorted goofily. "Methinks I have coffee stored in the kitchen there, fair Felicity! Let us go and partake of it!"

"Excellent notion!" agreed Felicity, feeling silly and drunk as the two of them stumbled off laughing for no other reason than to hear themselves make funny sounds. Which they were rather good at.

"We can escort each other home, then!" Arthur declared, after giving their predicament extremely little thought. "You can walk _me _home, then I can walk _you _home!"

"That does seem fair," admitted Felicity.

"And after we are both home and snug in our beds having said our prayers, we can forget all about how waggish we-" He stopped mid-sentence, gasped and pointed off into the darkness up ahead on their left. "Dear God, what is that?"

"What is 'what'?" Felicity stared into the darkness in the direction Arthur's shaking finger was pointing in, crinkling her mouth. "I dont see anything."

"Over there, look!"

There was not much light to see by; half a moon and what lantern posts were lit by candle-flame, what light the windows of homes on their right emitted. Felicity blinked several times, trying to still her eddying brain, but it just would not cooperate. She wavered a bit dizzily by the now completely quivering Arthur Pratt and said with confusion, "I just don't see anything!"

"Look with your eyes, woman!" Arthur squeaked fearfully.

"Why don't you just tell me what it is that you see, so that I can be afraid of it, too!" she suggested laughingly, her senses reeling like mad.

"It's a BEAR!" he cried in fright.

"You don't say!"

"Oh, I do, I do! It sees us, Felicity! We must flee!"

"Oh poo!" scoffed Felicity. "I aint afraid of no-*hic!*- bear! Lemme at 'im, Arthur Pratt! I'll teach 'im not to mess with my friends!" She swayed forward with a look of (drunken) determination upon her pixie-face and put her fists on her hips. "Hullo there! Bear! Have you been sent by the Lord Fop-sythe to intrepidate-interminate-intimerate-_intimiderate _us?"

"OhGodOhGodOhGod!" Arthur wailed, hopping from foot to foot. "Do not provoke it!"

She teetered forward some more with dauntless dizziness, finally seeing what it was just off the road that had Arthur going into panick-spasms: a four foot high, jagged-topped _stump_. Thick and black in the near-darkness. And seemingly to be bear-shaped. Felicity, feeling delightfully nutty, laughed senselessly and called, "'Tis a tree-stump, Arthur! Look, I'm even kicking it!" Kick, kick, kick. "'Tis _not _a bear!"

"FELICITY!" Arthur wailed, covering his eyes with his hands. "This is not the time for the making of jests!"

"But 'tis not a bear!" she protested ridiculously, and kicked the stump some more. Hard. "Ow, my toe! Ow, ow, ow!"

"Oh dear Lord, she's being torn to pieces! I cannot watch!"

"Now Arthur Pratt, just you stop being so silly!" Felicity scolded, feeling quite silly herself. She limped back out to the road and pointed back at the bear-shaped stump. "'Tis _not _a bear, but a stump that is shaped like one!"

Arthur looked, but like Felicity, his head was spinning a mile a minute. He stumbled forward, gawking and exclaimed, "Truly! I could have sworn it was a bear! Standing up in the manner of a human! Oh, you are such a brave soul, dear Lissie! If I had myself a brother, I would want him to be just like you!"

"Why, thank you- I think!" She scrunched her face and smiled. "I'm afraid I do not have enough working brains to fully understand what you mean. Now let us go! Sure is hard to think when you aint got brains!" She slapped a hand to her forehead in self-amazement. "Did I just say that? I sound like Mr. Haverty!"

"I feel as queer as you do, friend Felicity," sighed Arthur, wobbling up to her. "Strange, is it not, that we did not drink more than a mug?"

"'Twas not a big mug, either," observed Felicity dizzily. "Guess it was mostly rum...or something _akin _to rum." _Or something not even _remotely _akin to rum, _she mused deliriously. But she just could not concentrate on squat at the moment, not directly. She grabbed Arthur's closest arm. "Coffee, Arthur."

"Aye! Right this way!" They stumbled on down the street. Arthur had begun to hum again, and his eyelids fluttered sleepily. Felicity felt as though her feet were getting heavier and heavier with each step. Instead of feeling sillier now, she was beginning to feel sleepier!

The house that Arthur had bought and was furnishing for Elizabeth was one of the prettiest in town-or soon would be, that is. Like so many other homes in town, it had not escaped British occupation of course, and would require further work on it, like new window shutters, new fence and replanted shrubbery under the windows, but Arthur was using all of his savings to have it ready for his new bride when they returned from their honeymoon. It was a three-story brick, including an attic and a root cellar, mini-kitchen as well as the usual outdoors one, and generous front and back yards that would do well with gardens. The charming house was symmetrical, as was most of Williamsburg's homes, and would look impressive after all the work was done.

"Home sweet almost-home!" exclaimed Arthur as he and Felicity swayed torpidly up the gravel path toward the front door. "My goodness! I'm nearly ready to drop!" And drop he did, down on one knee, nearly dropping Felicity with him.

"Do get up, Arthur, we're almost there," Felicity urged sluggishly, tugging on his arm strengthlessly. "Then we can have coffee and go back to my house." She yawned uncontrollably.

Arthur shook his head in a useless attempt to try and clear it along with his vision. He rose up swayingly, and a rustling sound from the holly trees beside the house got his attention as well as Felicity's.

"Now what wuzzat?" Felicity slurred, not really caring, for her tongue and eyelids had become slow and heavier. She blinked sleepily at the holly trees. "Somebody over dere?"

Arthur leaned against her for support. "It had better not be another bear," he drawled drowzily. "Or even anything _bear_-_shaped_! I'm much too pooped to flee!"

"Me too," agreed Felicity, who's head swam intensely. In as loud a voice as she could muster, she called to the holly trees, "If theresh anyone in there, you bedder show yerself or my friend here will thrash you shtoopid!"

"Thash right, Lishie!" Arthur swayed dangerously and his knees shook."If thersh noboddy there, then never mind. But if you are the schcoundrel who shooted Medward 'Erriman, then you jush come right on out and what ish coming to you, take!"

Felicity's legs began to shake, too. "Well beat out of you the tar!" She grinned goofily. "But firsht, we need a little nap..." She sank to the gravel path in a heap, fast asleep right away. Arthur, too, dropped down on his knocking knees, then fell to his right. He was fast asleep even before his upper-half hit the ground.

From out of the shadows of the holly trees stepped Ezekiel Gooch. He had his big hands on his hips and his toothy grin was humorously wide despite having his pipe stuck in it. He was not alone, either, for behind him came a burly, sour-looking woman in her mid-forties, wearing servant's clothing and an unhumored scowl. She was a moody Swiss woman with a hard face.

"That was too easy!" laughed the Gooch, his amusement obvious as he looked down at the oblivious sleepers on the gravel path at his boots. "Entertainin', aint they?"

The big woman pushed at his big shoulder. "Just ye never mind zat!" she scolded irritably, her voice just as hard as her expression. "Let's just do vat he is paying us to do so ve can get out of here. I do not like all of zis sneakin' about!"

"Awright, awright! You're ter get th' girl an I'll get th' funny-fellow." He sighed tolerantly, bent over the snoring Arthur Pratt and rifled through the young Brit's coat pockets until he found what he was looking for: Arthur's ring of keys. He then proceeded to heft the lad himself over a wide, burly shoulder. Beside him, the burly Swedish _woman _was doing the same with Felicity.

"Hurry vit ze key!" goaded the big woman. "Ve do not have all night!"

"Aw, keep yer 'cap on, woman," Gooch muttered back at her as they carried their snoozing parcels up to the door of the house. "As a matter of fact, we _do _have all night; they aint wakin' up for _quite _some time!"

"I am not talking about zese two lackvits, Mr. Gooch! I have no desire to be caught in ze middle of Lord Vorsythe's underhanded deeds!"

Gooch grunted as he gripped Arthur Pratt with one big hand and tried the keys in the door lock with the other. "That runt aint man enuff ter step on a spider! He couldn't even- Heh! Here we go!" The front door swung open generously. "Awright, let's get down ter business!"

CHAPTER FINISHED! Can you guess what Forsythe's plan for poor Arthur and Felicity is?


	27. Chapter 23: Headed For A Heartbreak

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, PT2 CH23: Headed For A Heartbreak

AUTHOR'S WARNING:The end of Part 2 is here. Things are about to get dark and ugly. Things are gonna change that cannot be undone. Felicity's strength- mental and emotional, as well as her independence, is about to be tested in ways that she never imagined possible. But _I _have! How much do you love Lissie and Ben? Are you willing to endure whatever hardships they will have to in this story? Ask yourself, how much do can I take?  
How much would you endure for love?

It was the ferocious, roaring pain in her head that woke her. Temples pounding. The sensation of a cast iron pot sitting on the top of her head. Her mouth was dry and her body felt so incredibly heavy. The sunlight was not directly on her eyelids, but she felt as though it was shining on her full blast.

_Sunlight?_

What on earth was the time? Her body had the sensation of long, heavy sleep. She'd felt this way before, when she had been allowed to sleep late on special occasions. It was hard to think clearly. What time did she get home? Felicity managed to grimace against the filtered light, which was strangley odd to endure, so she began to move, sluggishly, bringing a hand up to her forehead and watering eyes. Her other hand went to her queasy stomach.

Her _bare _queasy stomach!

_That _woke her up fast! She sat up quick, simultaneoulsy blinking her green eyes rapidly, ignoring the nausea and her banging headache, only to find herself in a room that was not her own, beneath a heavy quilt and sheet _stark naked_! Her heart raced in sheer panic as she saw a body laying next to her, stirring slightly; she screamed in fright to see that it was Arthur Pratt, just beginning to wake! Instinctively, she pulled the sheet up to her chin and yelled, "ARTHUR, GET UP!"

"Huh?" he mumbled groggily. "That you, Beth? _Oooo_, does my head _hurt_!"

Where the devil were her clothes? Where were _his_? WHAT HAPPENED? Her forehead pounded mercilessly, her stomach rolled warningly with nausea and her vision swam. She glimpsed her corset and dress laying on a chair across the room. It actually hurt to think! She could not recall a thing about last night at the moment! It was making her sicker and sicker just trying to concentrate. "Arthur Pratt, I mean it! Get up now, we're in terrible trouble!" she moaned through clenched teeth.

Had they...did they...?

_Oh, God, no, this cannot be happening! This just cannot be real! _It had to be just a horrible dream! Felicity held her breath and thought as hard as she could. No...she did not _feel _anything physically different, other than the worst headache she'd ever had in her life. No soreness _down there_. But maybe her head was hurting so bad that she could not feel anything else right now. What in the name of God happened last night?

She had to get dressed and out of here, get home! "Arthur, I said NOW!"

"Wha?" Beneath the covers, Arthur kicked involuntarily, paused...then he, too, gasped and sat bolt upright, saw Felicity and screamed shrilly. He yanked his part of the covers up to _his _chin and babbled, "Felicity! Where-what-when-oh, dear Lord, you're-!"

"_I _am? _You _are, too!"

"OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod," he wailed, very close to panic-induced hyperventillating. "Oh my head! What _is _this mischief? Why are we..." He met her eyes with his own frigtful, wild-eyed stare. "Good God, Felicity, did we-?"

She was shaking now, she was so terrified. "N-No, I d-don't think we did, but we need to get out of here just as fast as we can!"

"Arthur Pratt, are you up there?" a familiar voice called out from downstairs. It was Elizabeth! Felicity and Arthur exchanged a frenzied, horrified look, then they both began to scramble from the covers to find their clothes.

Too late.

The bedchamber door swung open wide. "Arthur, where in the world have you be- OH!" Elizabeth's blue eyes expanded to their utmost in stricken discovery. She saw Arthur, sitting up in bed naked from the waist up. She saw Felicity, standing beside the bed with just a sheet to cover herself with. She saw both of them, obviously, unclothed. Obviously just getting up. Obviously, in Elizabeth's mind, having just...just...

Felicity's hand shot out in the 'stop!' gesture. "Now wait a moment, Beth, this is not what it looks like! Just let us explain-"

"Oh! Oh...no! No, no, no!" Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes. She backed out of the room, into the hall, shaking her head. "NO!" Then she whirled and fled, bursting into great sobs.

"Beth, please, wait!" Arthur cried, trying to get up and go after her, but with his head hurting like a cleaver had sliced into it, he could not respond physically the way he wanted to, so he got his legs tangled up in the bed quilt and fell right to the floor. "Elizabeth!"

"Damnation!" Felicity swore, striding over to Arthur's clothes on another chair. Fighting the urge to throw up, she grabbed his things up in one hand, held her sheet tightly against hersef with her other, and tossed them to where he lay dazed on the floor. "You've got to get dressed and go after her as soon as you can! Explain to her what really happened!"

Arthur was already beginning to cry. "What _did _happen, Felicity? Are you sure we didn't..." He could not bring himself to say it.

"No, Arthur, we didn't. I, um, looked myself over. Nothing happened! Get dressed and go!"

"Then how did we get...in here? Like _this_?" He sniffed and began dressing with his back turned to her just as she was already doing in the farthest corner of the room.

"We would have never done anything like this of our own accord, we both know that," she muttered darkly as she laced herself up as best she could considering that her fingers didn't want to cooperate. "Somebody did this _to _us!"

"But who would be so...?" He clapped a hand to his forehead and cried, "That man! That-that _Gooch_-person!"

Felicity gritted her teeth and tried to think. She had gone out last night looking for Ben. She had gone to the Pratts' home. Then she went to the Wetherburn Tavern, where she had found Arthur with...that big man...who had insisted on buying them all a drink!

Oh no.

Her stomach lurched threateningly. God Almighty, her head had never hurt so bad! "He...he was most likely Forsythe's man!" she nearly half-cried herself. "That Gooch, he is a hunter! He _is _the whoreson who shot Father!"

"Oh Lissie! Oh my God, I am so very sorry!" Arthur, finally dressed although sloppily due to his being physically numb, staggered dizzily, grabbed onto the bedpost nearest to him to keep from crashing to the floor again."I-I did not know! I did not think that he was-"

"I know, Arthur, all right? I didn't think of the possibility, either!" She could not find her mobcap, but it did not matter, nor did she care. Ben's signal whistle was on the chair where her clothing had been put. She did better putting it on than any of her other things. "We've got to find Ben and Elizabeth!" Her breath was ragged as she struggled to get her red cloak on. "We've got to explain to them-to everyone what has happened to us and why!"

"Aye," Arthur agreed, his voice just as thick with the nearness of throwing up as Felicity's was. "Why _would _Forsythe do this to us, Lissie?" The both of them made for the doorway.

"To ruin our reputations, I assume," she breathed sickeningly. "In the eyes of our loved ones, in the eyes of the town, so that he can make his move, whatever that may be. But all of this is because of _me_. All because Forsythe cannot take no for an answer. Because of me. We've just got to get Ben and Beth, 'tis all that matters now."

Arthur followed along closely as they came to the stairs. "I'm afraid Beth will not believe me."

"Then _make _her believe you! Make her see that it was a plot against us-against _all _of us!" She held to the railing with both trembling hands for fear of falling literally head first. "Can't exactly discern the details of Forsythe's doings, but who _else _would do this to us? It all makes sense, Arthur! He had that Gooch shoot Father, Father did not die, so he arranged to have this done to us! Somehow he _arranged _for us to be found in this predicament, which is all the more reason to find Ben and Beth and explain. Oh _damn _that little weasel!" She reached the bottom of the stairs and swayed dizzily.

Arthur, too, had to work at keeping the maintainence of his balance and the nausea at bay. He laid a caring hand upon Felicity's shoulder. "'Tis pointless to attempt to make sense out of a madman's mind, my friend. 'Twill lead to madness in itself. We can only put a stop to that madness."

Felicity nodded grimly. "Get to Elizabeth, Arthur. 'Tis all that matters now. I will go to Ben.

"Godspeed, Felicity."

They went their seperate ways. With a hand to her lurching stomach, Felicity hurled herself into a run. The crisp autumn morning air stung her cheeks as she tried to go fast. 'Twas terribly hard to run when one's head was full of thunder and lightning, and one's feet preferred to stumble and stagger. The streets of Williamsburg were surprisingly not busy this morning. There were not many people out and about, but Felicity felt like the entire world already knew how Elizabeth Cole had found her dear fiance in bed with her best friend. She grimaced painfully, from the pain in her head as well as that in her heart. Arthur would most likely go to Elizabeth's house first-that had to be where poor Beth would go after such a heartbreaking shock. As for herself, Felicity knew not where to begin. Home? The store? It was so hard to think!

What in hell did that Gooch put in her drink?

_Rum alone could not_ _do this to a person, _she thought frightfully_. Not even to someone who is not used to the drink! And 'twas NOT much! _Her hand went from her stomach to her head again. _Feel like my head is going to split open! Actually, it might feel better if it did! _The sunlight filtering through the gauzy clouds was like blasts of lightning in her eyes. _Oh Elizabeth, please believe Arthur! He is innocent! Father says you cannot always trust what you see! Oh God, please help ALL of us!_

Duke of Gloucester Street! She was close to home now. She paused at the front of her father's store. It was not open. 'Twas obvious that it was getting close to noon judging from the position of the sun, and the store was usually always open before noon. Sure, her father was seriously injured, but why hadn't Ben or at least Mr. Haverty opened up...?

_Unless everyone is out looking for me. And Arthur. And Elizabeth has found us. God, what is happening? _She clutched pathetically at her stomach. Her head swam with panic, fear, worry, the whole gamut of negative, self-destructing thoughts. The banging in her head was not about to let up. She clenched her teeth and leaned against the brick base of the wooden stair railing leading up to Merriman's Store. _Home, then. Have to get home, have to tell them what has happened and why-_

"Miss?" A curious elderly man going in the opposite direction had stopped, apparently having noticed her sickly stature, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Miss?"

"No," she muttered quickly, queasily, straightening herself up by sheer will alone. "But I am going home now. I'll b-be better when I get home, sir. Thank you." Her teeth had begun to chatter, but not because of the cold. 'Twas the shock to her nerves.

"Well, you best get on, then," the elderly gent said kindly. "Would you like an escort?"

"No. Thank you, sir, I can manage." She held to her stomach with one hand and pushed herself off the brick base with the other. The old gentleman watched worriedly as Felicity lurched away, trying to run, trying not to stumble. He had the immediate impression that all was not well with the girl. She was obviously ill, maybe even in some kind of trouble on top of that. He scratched his chin in wonder and watched her until she disappeared .

Felicity was ever so relieved to see her white clapboard house, the front yard that still lacked a front gate, the barn-the latter of which had its doors open, and just as she staggered into view, Nan emerged from the barn wearing her dark blue winter cloak. Felicity called to her urgently.

"FELICITY?" Nan looked up, saw her sister come swaying towards her, and broke into a run that was anything but gentlewomanly! She clasped Felicity in a fierce hug and let loose a stream of worry. "Oh Felicity, where have you been? We've been so frightfully worried about you! Ben, Marcus and Mr. Haverty have been out all night looking for you! We were so afraid that-"

"Nan," Felicity interrupted hurriedly, gripping the teen's shoulders for support, "where is Ben _now_?"

"Out looking for _you_! Lissie, you look ill! What has happened?"

"'Tis a long story, lamb, but please: do you know where Ben is right now? And has Elizabeth been by?"

Rightfully so, Nan's blue eyes were full of fright and confusion. "N-No, Elizabeth has not been here since she went to help look for you at the first sign of dawn! Ben was supposed to meet Mr. Haverty behind the store at noon, to see if either one had any luck in finding you. Oh Lissie, _do _come inside at once, you look horrible!"

Immediately, Felicity shook her mussed red head _no_. "I can't, Nan. I must find Ben right away and tell him what has happened!"

"No!" Nan cried desperately, gripping her sister's arms. "You _must _stay here, Lissie, you are ill! What has happened?"

"I can't even _begin _to tell you, 'tis just imperative that I find Ben and tell him first!"

Nan's eyes were pleading. "You are in no fit shape to go _anywhere_! Stay here and wait for Ben to come home!"

"Nan, I cannot wait, you don't understand!" Felicity, upon seeing her dear, sweet, devoted younger sister's eyes fill with tears, clasped the girl's face in her hands tenderly and said in a more gentle tone, "Look, dearest, 'tis quite possible that you may hear talk of...well, that you may hear of a very ugly accusation against me and Arthur Pratt today-"

"Arthur?" Nan looked even more mystified than ever. "What has happened with Arthur? Why would the both of you-"

"Ssssh," Felicity soothed, although her head ached furiously. "Just you know that Arthur and I are innocent, Nan. Even if this terrible accusation comes out of Elizabeth's mouth, which it most likely will, trust in me, my sister. You _know _me. You know I would never break a promise, and I have not!"

Nan made a struggling sound in her throat. "B-But what would be so terrible that _Elizabeth _would be accusing you _and _Arthur of?"

Felicity sniffed sorrowfully. Now was not the time for the heartwrenching details. "You will find out soon enough, I'm afraid. But Forsythe is behind it, for no one else would be so vengeful."

"Forsythe! I _knew _it! I knew he would be responsible for your being missing all night! What has he done, Lissie, oh please tell me!"

Again Felicity shook her head. Time was flying by and she had to find Ben. "'Twas nothing he did _to _me and Arthur directly, but something that he _made _happen. Now tell me, how is Father?"

"No better, no worse," Nan replied worriedly.

"And Mother?"

"The same: worried about Father, worried about you. Oh! And a constable came by in the night to speak to Father alone. Mother was not allowed to stay in the room while they spoke! Polly tried to listen in at the door-crack, but all she could make out were the words 'Jiggy Nye.' Father said he needed to speak with you at once! Thank the Lord that you are home, now you can-"

"No, Nan," Felicity interrupted again, gently. "I am going to the store to meet with Ben and Mr. Haverty since they are to be there at noon."

"Well I am going with you!" Nan cried. "You are _ill_, Lissie!"

Felicity sighed stressfully. Again. "No. I need you to be here in case Elizabeth shows up. And if she does, I want you to _keep _her here! Do whatever you have to do, Nan! It is important that everyone Arthur and I love hear the truth! Will you do this for me, Nan?"

"Yes, Felicity, I will. I trust you completely." There was doubt in her voice, though. Not becasue she doubted her older sister's word, but she did not trust in Felicity's _health_.

"Thank you, Nan! I love you, lamb. Tell Father I will be home shortly and then he can tell me all about Jiggy Nye!" She quickly kissed Nan's forehead, hugged her hard, then took off striding as fast as she could manage. Nan watched her for a minute, debating on whether or not to run after her anyway, but then dashed for the house to tell her parents that she had seen Felicity and all that was said between them.

Halfway back to her father's store, Felicity just had to throw up; she could hold it back no longer. Being in constant motion had not helped a bit. She dropped to her knees by some hedge and retched explosively. That, in turn, made her poor head pound mercilessly faster, but at least her stomach felt better, even if it now felt like a shrunken, hard green pea. Her chest heaved and she had to fight the urge to lay down right where she was. The dizziness was just as intense as before. She could taste cream and something she could only describe as metal in her mouth. Ick! If she had not just thrown up she sure would be emptying her guts _now_!

_Get up, Felicity Merriman. Get to Ben. Tell him what has happened and why. _She willed herself to rise, wavered a bit. Impatient as always. She knew she really ought to go home and lay down, wait for Ben there, but the manic sense of urgency would not let up any more than her head would. In her racing heart all she wanted to do was find Ben and explain.

It was all that mattered.

-There was no one there when she got to the back of the store. So despite her sickened state, she just sat down at the bottom of the back steps and leaned against the wooden railing weakly. _This just has to be a nightmare. All of it. This just cannot be happening. Can't be._

"FELICITY!" a voice shouted. Ben!

She gasped and raised her head. Indeed it _was _Ben! Striding toward her fast. Holding to the wooden railing she stood up once more and breathed, "Oh thank God you're here, Ben, I need to-"

He had stopped just short of her, and instantly she sensed something was wrong. He was breathing hard and staring at her as if he, too, was in some kind of gut-wrenching shock. "Where were you last night?"

Uh-oh...She gulped weakly. "i went out to look for you since you were not home yet! I was worried about something happening to you, and Elizabeth was wondering the same thing about Arthur, for he had not-"

"So it's true, then?" he blurted out, panting, his voice rising sharply. "Everything Elizabeth just told me is true?"

_Oh no, no, no, no..._She clasped a hand to her hammering head and winced in pain. Her voice was a saddening whisper. "You've seen Elizabeth?"

"_Seen _her?" His brown eyes were full of fiery suspicion. "I damn near ran over her as I was leaving her house and she was coming into it! She was crying, Felicity! I'd never seen her so upset! When I asked her what was the matter, if she had found you..." He trailed off, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to control himself. "Do you know what she told me she found, Felicity? Do you?"

_Oh Ben, no, you cannot believe it! _Uncontrollably, tears filled her dulled eyes. Her nausea was coming back, sure as day. "Yes, Ben, I _know _what Elizabeth told you, and now _I'm _telling you that it is not true- she misunderstood what had happened!"

"_Misunderstood_?" Ben gestured wildly with both hands. "How in hell can somebody misunderstand seeing their best friend in bed with their fiance? Elizabeth doesn't lie, Felicity! And she would _never _just make up a tale like that!" He shook with accelerating rage and hurt.

"I _know_!" Felicity shot back, the sound of her own rising voice piercing her temples stabbingly. "Listen to me, Ben, just _listen _to me! What Elizabeth saw was not as it seemed! A man at the Wetherburn Tavern altered our drinks so that it messed up our heads and put us to sleep! When we woke up this morning we were just as horrified to find ourselves unclothed and in the same bed as Elizabeth was! But Arthur and I did not do anything deceitful! Someone did it _to _us! You and Elizabeth know us better than that!"

"It just doesn't make any sense, Felicity," Ben told her angrily. "Why would someone do that?"

"Forsythe had it done!"

"You're going to blame _him _for this?" Ben's glare was so appalling that Felicity nearly cried out in shock. "He's not even _in _Williamsburg anymore! I _did _go out to the Templeton place last night, looking for _you _of all things, because I thought the little bastard did something to you." He snarled as if he was disgusted, which broke Felicity's heart even deeper. "Not that I needn't have worried! Lady Templeton was very upset because she found a note in her parlor from her whoreson nephew saying that he had left town for New York that very morning! She was grieved that he hadn't even said goodbye! Are you going to call _her _a liar, too, Felicity?"

"No!" she sobbed in protest. "He has tricked his own relatives, too! He is in hiding! And even if he has left town, which I can assure you he hasn't, that does not mean he could not have a paid man finish carrying out his revenge for him! The same big man who tampered with my drink is the one who shot Father!"

Ben clenched his teeth, shook his head in disbelief. "What proof do you have of _any _of it?"

She grabbed at her stomach again and teetered forward, her sad eyes pleading. "Whatever that man-that Mr. Gooch-put in our drinks has made Arthur and me very ill. Can't you see that, Ben? Do you really think I would just go and betray you like that? And Arthur betray Elizabeth? Ben, we are _innocent_, you have to believe me!"

"You know, I had a feeling that it was all too good to be true." His eyes were cold as he stared at her, a muscle in his hard jaw flexing. "That you could settle for me, love me as an adult. You've always been willful, Felicity, for as long as I've known you. Willful, defiant and reckless. You found Arthur at Wetherburn's Tavern, got drunk to drown your frustrations, then seduced Arthur Pratt, who couldn't refuse you any more than any _other _whore-monger could. _That _is what happened!"

She choked, balled a fist against her once-again taunting stomach as a single tear ran down her ashen cheek. He didn't believe her, wasn't about to. "Ben, don't do this. You don't know what you're saying." She took a step towards him, and he instantly took a step back. Another shot to her shattering heart. "Ben, think! Why would I accept your marriage proposal over those of so many others if I didn't love _you_? Why would I wait for five whole years for your return and then destroy our future as well as that of my best friends?" This was insane!

"Because you think I'm a fool, Felicity," he answered darkly, clearly _not _thinking. "Because as a child you believed you could have everything you wanted, and now as a grown woman you still believe it! You think I've forgotten what you said about your wishing you could enter into marriage already knowing of intimate matters? Well, did Arthur teach you properly? Did you learn all you want to know about how to fu-"

"WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" she all but screamed at him, setting her own head into cannon blasts of pain so intense that for the breifest few seconds, had her seeing blazing flashes of white that obliterated her entire vision. She grabbed her head in her hands and swayed. "Oh...!"

"You won't drink any more, I'll wager!" Ben snapped viciously.

"Elizabeth misunderstood!" Felicity moaned pleadingly. "_Why _don't you believe me? Why are you so willing to take _her _side over _mine_? Forsythe arranged this to tear us apart and he is succeeding! Don't let him, Ben, I'm begging you! Please! You can't always trust your eyes! Trust your heart, Ben. Listen to what your heart tells you!"

Ben shook his head. Tears were gathering in his eyes, too. His face was a mix of anger and hurt. "Right now my heart doesn't feel anything-not for you. Not any more."

Felicity could have sworn her soul had just left her body. "You don't mean that, Ben. I know you don't."

"Well then, I guess we just do not know each other as well as we thought. I was afraid of something like this happening. How can a person be mistaken about seeing two naked people in bed together? It can only mean one thing, Felicity Merriman."

She shook her head, too. She was shaking all over, going cold, going numb all over. "No! You're wrong! Remember when I walked in on you kissing Clarissa Dupre? Like you, I was angry and hurt until I allowed you to explain the situation to me, and then I believed you!"

"That was indeed a kiss that you saw, Felicity!" he roared. "And what you saw was indeed a physical act! Your eyes did not decieve you, you saw what was the truth-a kiss! The nature of it was only one-sided, yes, but the act itself was no illusion! No one forced us to kiss and we were not drunk!"

"And what Beth saw was no illusion, either! Yes, we were unclothed and just getting out of the bed, but we had been poisoned-we had no idea where we were or what had happened, but no immoral act had been commited except that which Mr. Gooch commited against us!"

He laughed bitterly, flung his arms in complete disbelief. "You want to know why I choose to believe Elizabeth over you? Elizabeth does not lie! She was a wreck when I saw her! If she had thought for one moment that what she had seen was a misunderstanding, she would not have been so upset!"

"She had just reacted in shock," Felicity pleaded. "'Twas only natural that she did, I understand that! But if the both of you would just calm down long enough to hear what Arthur and I have to say you both would know the truth!"

"No, Felicity, not this time. Never again." His jaw clenched. He was backing away from her. "You just cannot be trusted and I cannot be made a fool of over and over again. At least Clarissa Dupre was trustworthy! Maybe I should have married her after all!"

Felicity was sobbing now, quietly, unable to say anything more in her own defense. She was utterly give out in every way possible, knowing with the grimmest of realizations that there was nothing that she could say or do to get through to him, the one person she thought would believe her, _in _her. Love her enough to at least give her the benefit of the doubt.

So Forsythe had won.

And as Ben Davidson backed away, his face a mask of rage and heartache, he breathed venomously, "I hope someday you find a man who's willing to put up with your foolishness, I really do, Felicity. Because it is _not _going to be me! I'd rather marry Clarissa than a _whore_!" He turned and walked away fast, not looking back.

Felicity slowly sank to her knees, crying hard but silently. Her hands lay in her lap, feeling just as lifeless as the rest of her numbed body. She shook uncontrollably, not knowing what to think or feel. Her life had just exploded in her face. If the man she loved more than anything in the world did not believe her or was even willing to, no one would. She could not go hime-oh, no, she dare not. An accusation was the equivalent of actually commiting the act itself! Wasn't her family already suffering enough with Father's shooting? If she was to go home now the mere shame of the accusation would just make things worse!

There was some sound, something more than just the banging in her head. Something like clapping. She did not know what it was nor did she care. She didn't care about anything anymore. She had lost Ben. She had lost Elizabeth. If her heart ceased beating at this very moment she would not care. Nothing mattered anymore.

"Bravo, Felicity," a familiar, haughty voice oozed silkily. "Very well done, my dear. That was a scene worthy of the finest theater houses in London."

It had not registered in her mind that a set of feet had approached her, clad in elaborately embroidered silk shoes with above-average heel height. And yet another set encased in thick furry boots stood near her as well. The Gooch had arrived with his employer. Felicity made no move to stand or even look up at them. She did not flinch nor speak, nor anything else. Her burning tears continued to cascade as she merely stared at the ground, seeing not the dry dirt of the cart path, but her own life flashing before her eyes.

"He was no good, you know," Forsythe continued as he walked a slow circle around her, looking down at her with small hazel eyes full of amusement and victory. "So hot-headed that he couldn't even see how afflicted you are! But alas! I had counted on that. I knew he would be feeling utterly sorry for himself so that he would be unable to undestand your plight. Oh well, good riddance to him! His own hot-headedness has cost him dearly, but all the better for me!" He paused, for Felicity gave no indication that she was even aware of his presence. "Look at me, Felicity."

She didn't. She didn't care. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to do and she just did not care. She continued to shake and cry ever so softly.

Forsythe sighed. "I never meant for things to go this far, Felicity. Perhaps you do not believe that now, but in time you will see. 'Twas not my intention for your father to be shot." When mention of her beloved father did not even phase her, he continued. "I meant for my man here to kill that loathsome apprentice, but the abominable fool was so tipsy that he shot the wrong man. I am indeed sorry for that, for as many times as your father had denied my appeals for you, I did not see him as any obstacle. But with this other plan of mine, Benjamin Davidson is _worse _than dead. He thinks you have betrayed him in the worst way possible. Imagine that! Choosing to take the word of your best friend over that of the woman he claimed to have loved! An idiot, is he not? Makes me wonder if he truly loved you to begin with! He is no great loss to you, Felicity. A fool like that would always put his own needs first."

Gooch cleared his phlegmy throat for attention. "Beggin' yer pardon, yer lordiness, but we need t'be going, 'member?"

"Ah yes," Forsythe replied smoothly, still circling the motionless girl. "It is time, Felicity."

_Darlin don't wait up for me, tonight I won't be home  
You've become a stranger, I've just got to be alone  
Don't need nobody on my side, to know the plate I'm on  
So don't be waitin' for the love, cause I'll be waitin' to ramble on  
Headed for a heartbreak  
Its all the same, don't you think I can feel the pain?  
I walk away, to live again...  
_-Lines from 'Headed For A Heartbreak' by Winger

CHAPTER FINISHED

**Author's Babble**: Part 2 is about to come to an end. I'm warning you here and now to brace yourselves. I mean it. How much do you love Felicity? If you are not willing to travel the agonizing road that lies ahead with her, then stop reading.

Also, I need to pass along some happy news: There is a new Felicity/Ben fan community over at livejournal called 'stolen breeches'! Is that not adorable? Anyways, it was created by quamquam20, and is seeking members! To take part in this fantastic site, all you need is a livejournal account, but don't worry: a basic account is free (it's what I've got), you just need to update often so the livejournal folks to not delete you. Even if you just post a one lined-entry ("Farted in class today, accused someone else of doing it, ha ha" for example), that's good enough. Oh you don't have to post everyday, just enough to keep the ball rolling. But you probably know I'm already posted there, and schaferdramaqueen has a page there now where she is known as minefloozle, so go over and say "Hi!" Then if you haven't already, go give some love to 'stolen breeches' as well!


	28. Chapter 24: Gone In An Instant

Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE PT2, CH24:Gone in An Instant

_You know the strongest heart is broken when it falls_

_You turn and walk away and let it die _

_I got this picture in my head of you in someone else's bed _

_And I am torn apart, I'm torn apart inside _

_I build my world around you, __I was nothing before I found you _

_Paying the price of love, the start of my end over you _

_When you're doing it for someone who'll never be free _

_That emotion is always replaying _

_Paying the price of love, my heart in my hands over you _

_When the battle is just not fair, you'll never be free Now is all there wil ever be _

-lines from 'Paying The Price of Love' by the BeeGees (a really sad and sexy song, if you haven't heard it, then you have no business in romance!:P)

Finally Felicity seemed to be roused, but she still did not look up at him. When she spoke, her voice was thick and slow. "What do you want?"

"You already know what I want." Forsythe finally stopped circling her and kneeled down before her, cocked his head to try and catch her eye. "You know very well. My proposal. But 'tis not only a matter of marriage, Felicity, for I can make all of this go away. I am not completely without compassion, you know." The small hazel eyes showed anything but.

But Felicity said nothing.

After a tense moment, Forsythe said, "Marry me, Felicity. Marry me and I will make all of this go away for good. I can do that." When no reply came, he offered a smile that was anything but heartfelt and compassionate. "You know, Captain Davidson truly was lucky to have walked away, Felicity. I had my man, Mr. Gooch here, waiting just around the corner of the building with his pistols ready. And he is not drunk today, so his shot would have been quite accurate. 'Twas why I hired him to begin with. Unfortunately, once he got a taste of Southern whiskey and liquor, his mind tended to wander, and that was why your father was shot that night instead of Davidson. But I can assure you he is not tipsy now."

"He shot my father," Felicity murmured without even realizing she had spoken.

"Like I said, Felicity, I am indeed sorry it happened. But I can arrange for him to recieve the very best in medical care, for I have in my employ a man who is very skilled in the arts of physick!" This last statement came out jovially, as if there were cause for celebration. He beamed proudly.

"You have a man for everything, don't you..." Felicity wasn't aware her lips were moving. Something between her mind and mouth had become disconnected. 'Twas shock.

"Of course I do!" Incredibly, Forsythe sounded as if he was in high spirits. "A man of my station has many resources at his disposal. When you become my wife, you shall have them, too!"

To this Felicity said absolutely nothing. In her mind, she was rapidly sliding into a very dark place; a spinning, unreachable place of despair and grim options. There was no intelligent reasoning where she was, no glimmer of hope or resistance. And in this stygian mental pit, she felt backed into a corner. The rabbit trapped by the wolves. She'd seen such a situation in real life before, on occasion-her grandfather's hounds after the fox or the wild rabbit, the hunted creature trapped without means of escape. The fox just seemed to know that it was doomed, so it fought the hounds until its death, having nothing left to loose. The rabbit, however, being the high-strung little thing that it was, could plainly see that there was no way out, so its heart merely gave out.

Death had been the only option for either.

She believed it was clarity she had found in the murky depths of her shock-induced lethargy. An end. She would make an end to all of this for her family, who was suffering needlessly. For Ben and Elizabeth, who suffered needlessly as well, although blindly. And for herself, for she was the cause of all of it, she decided. The reason for Forsythe's mad obsession.

She would stop him, too.

She would marry him. Let him think that he was getting what he wanted. Then before the so-called marriage would be consumated, before Forsythe could get a chance to lay a finger on her, she would take her own life. Yes. There was a certain satisfaction in that. And it would all end. What kind of life could there be for her now? Her family under the constant threat of harm, Ben and Elizabeth turned against her in the worst way possible. Poor, innocent Arthur Pratt having lost Elizabeth as well! How could she go on living, knowing it was all because of her? She could not. She would not. She would get back at Forsythe this way. By eliminating the very thing that he desired most.

"Felicity?" Forsythe's weasily voice with its stiff British accent made her flinch. "What do you have to say?"

_Go to hell_, _that is what_. Still staring at the ground, though now as if she could see her own diabolical plan laid out before her perfectly, Felicity spoke in emotionless words. "Fine. I'll marry you, Forsythe."

"A very sensible decision, my dear," oozed the young lord from Bristol with satisfaction. "The correct decision, too. You will see that it was all for the best." His small hazel eyes flickered over her with exaggerated distaste. "You do look a-fright, my dear. You must be absolutely freezing, seeing how you are shaking so! And as for this-" He took hold of Ben's signal whistle and made a greatly disapproving expression. "This is rubbish! Rebel rubbish! A fine neck such as yours deserves to be graced in jewels and silk ribbon, not foolishness!" He yanked on it, but nothing happened, and Felicity neither blinked nor flinched. He yanked again. And again. Then he stood up, stepped back, pointed to the whistle and to the Gooch (who'd been trying his best not to laugh) ordered, "Remove that atrocity!"

With a chuckle and a sigh, the Gooch stepped up to the motionless girl, snatched up the signal whistle and gave it a sharp yank. The cord snapped, leaving a red mark on the left side of Felicity's white neck, but still she did not speak or move. She was gone beyond physical feeling. Gooch tossed the whistle aside and with one big handfull of Felicity's cloak in the back, hauled her up to her feet as if she were just a mere rag doll. "We gots ter be goin', yer lordiness, if you get my meanin'. Daylight's a-wastin'."

"Oh yes, yes indeed," Forsythe agreed, clasping his hands together. "But do not rough-handle my bride, will you not? Now let us make haste, my dear Felicity. Your carriage awaits!"

Felicity was only vaguely aware of being trotted around the side of Merriman's Store, where an ordinary traveling coach stood waiting. The butler Saul Smedley stood beside the door on the side they came to, looking not at all pleased to be there. He met his young master's eyes with his own apprehensive ones. "My lord," he began tightly, "I must insist on not being the one to sit up on the bench due to my-" "Oh bloody hell, old man, you can ride inside the thing and Mr. Gooch will ride up top. We all know how you have neither strength nor stomach to stay upright on a bouncy bench!"

With a sigh of relief and an irate glance at the Gooch, who laughed at him, Smedley opened the door to allow the big man to put the listless Felicity inside the carriage. Forsythe followed, then the aging butler followed him in. Felicity sat across from Forsythe and next to a burly Swedish woman on her left. The woman did not look too pleased herself. Forsythe settled back in his eat and said "Here we go!" As if he could be no more cheerful about anything else in the world. The carriage pulled out with a jolt. Felicity said nothing, but merely stared at her buckled shoes as if reading her own last will and testament. The curtains of the carriage were drawn, of course, but that didn't even register in her mind. A lit lantern hung from the carriage-top, swaying with the craft's motion, casting crazy shadows.

As the carriage left, with its brown horses moving at an easy, reasonable pace so as to not attract the attentions of any people they passed, for Duke of Gloucester Street was now bustling with bodies, including French and American soldiers, a lone figure amidst the bustle stopped to watch the carriage pass.

Annabelle Cole bit her bottom lip and hurried home.

* * *

After the carriage had been going a while, Forsythe opened the velvet burgundy curtains on either side of the compartment. "We should be quite at ease now!" said he delightedly. He studied Felicity's solemn, withdrawn pale face and asked, "Do you not wonder where we are going, my dear?"

No, she did not. If she had had her wits about her, she would have indeed wondered where it was she was being taken to. She would have assumed it was to Templeton Manor. But no, the carriage had been going much too long for them to be going there. Not that she had truly noticed. She was deep within herself, steeling herself. Shutting down. She closed her eyes and put her head back against the cushioned panel.

"Oh, very well, I shall tell you! We make for Yorktown!"

"Humph!" grunted the big Swedish woman, speaking for the first time in two hours. "Dere is nutzing left of zat place!"

"My dear Madame Helga," Forsythe smiled most mysteriously, "I beg to differ! Not only are there French and rebel soldiers wintering there, but many of my countrymen stil remain. I have arranged to meet some acquaintences there. They will help me finish off our little plan once and for all!" He looked back at Felicity. "Not everything is as it appears, wouldn't you say, Felicity?"

Her mind had not even registered that he had spoken.

From between his feet, Smedley brought up a large covered basket with a cloth covering it. He dug around inside it, then withdrew a metal flask with the initials RMF etched onto it, above what would appear to be the Forsythe family crest. Smedley removed its cap and handed the flask to his young master with a curt nod.

"Ah yes," Forsythe smiled mindfully. "Seeing as how you feel rather sickly, my dear, I have brought you sustenance! I cannot have my bride fall ill with our nuptuals so near! I have cheeses, rolls and queen cakes for you! But here, drink this first, then eat." He leaned forward and placed the flask into her numbed hands. "My goodness, you are cold! Madam Helga, put that blanket on her at once!"  
The burly Swedish woman grumbled, pulled a burgundy wool blanket out of the sack between her feet and used one broad hand to raise Felicity's strengthless forearms, and the other to hastily drop the blanket over the blank-eyed girl's legs and lap. "Dere!" Madame Helga told her firmly. "Now drink!" Somewhat roused, Felicity's wary, spiritless green eyes went to Forsythe's watchful beady hazel ones. The last time he had arranged for her to drink something, she had become dazed and senseless, then passed out. Her ashen face was clearly showing suspicion.

And Forsythe indeed sensed it. "Oh come now, dear one, do not look so apprehensive! 'Tis only brandy." When she looked down at the flask in her hands, he encouraged, "Truly, Felicity, there is no need for alarm. I want to _marry _you, not murder you."

This, she knew, was all too sickeningly true. She wished he would murder her! Nothing was killing her faster than knowing that she had lost Ben forever. But she was preparing herself mentally to take her own life as soon as Forsythe had them married and before that scurge of the earth could consumate it-or even try. She would take her virginity to the grave with her as her final "HAHA!" Knowing that did give her some peace inside the dismal pit she had sunk into. So she shrugged indifferently, brought the flask to her lips and drank. The liquid burned her throat, even her nostrils, but it was not too great a shock. She'd had brandy before on special occasions.

Damned if it didn't have a strange aftertaste to it, too.

Glaring at Forsythe, she handed it back to him.

"Thirsty, weren't we?" Forsythe ignored her death-glare. "But it will help soothe your nerves. You've had quite the shock today, have you not! Have some bread?"

She snatched the already buttered large roll out of Smedley's hand and wolfed it down like a starving street urchin. Smedley blinked at her in surprise, but Felicity did not care. She wanted them to dislike her. It gave her the insane energy to prepare for her mad plan.

She ate everything that was given to her out of the basket, making a grand show of dropping crumbs and chewing loudly. She did not have to exaggerate much, for she had not had a decent bite of anything to eat since supper the evening before, and even that had not been much since she didn't have much of an appetite with Father so wounded. But she was hungry now, and she could be hungry and un-ladylike at the same time, out of spite! Smedley sighed and rolled his tired eyes. The big Swedish woman clicked her tongue and said gruffly, "Zis is no lady that you have chosen!"

Forsythe merely smiled, thinly and crookedly. To Felicity, he said "Do not mind Madam Helga, Felicity. Though she is to be your servant, she has no hesitation in offering her opinion! 'Tis just a part of her charming personality."

This was his feeble stab at humor, one that was completely lost on Felicity as if it had fallen upon deaf ears. She finished scarfing everything that had been given to her and now she slumped back into her seat. 'Twas not long before she felt light-headed and her eyelids grew heavy. The rocking of the carriage gave speed to the sleep she could not fight. Not that she wanted to fight it. In the treacherously dark pit she had placed herself in, she never, ever wanted to be awake again. Not without Ben and Elizabeth. Not without hope. The thing that was passing for hope in her bleak soul was the anticipation of her own demise at her own hands. So sleep came, induced by the secret additive once more added to her drink, and she did not fight it, nor did she question it, nor did she even wish to go into a rage at Forsythe for it. Indeed she was angry-so much that in just a few hours' time, it had become all that sustained her. The basis of her fatalistic decision.

She often prided herself on her ability to turn fear into anger in order to do what was necessary. In losing Ben she had lost her heart. In losing Elizabeth, she'd lost her reasoning. Her fury was driven by the very madness that Forsythe invoked. She saw no other alternative. _Why couldn't you just believe me_, _Ben_? _Why didn't you love me enough to see that I was telling the truth_? _Now I am damned_, _for I will NOT be that frilly monkey's wife_! I WILL NOT! _Even if I have to use the last of my strength fighting him_, _I will be the master of my own fate_, _not him_! _He will not knock the wind out of me again_!

Once she tumbled into sleep, she did not dream. At least not as far as she could reckon. Consciousness returned slowly and uncertainly. The pain in her head was not horrible like before, nor was the nausea, but there was definately some of both again. Damn fop had done it to her again! At least there was no one else to suffer but her this time. She groaned sluggishly and attempted to get her eyes open. They did not want to respond, of course, but her other senses were already at work.

She could sense daylight. So 'tis still daytime. Not that it matters. She seemed to be laying down on something soft-another bed? A bed? The increasingly familiar sense of dread filled her up and woke her quickly. She blinked forcefully and sat right up.

'Twas a strange little room she found herself in, but at least she was alone. She still had that feeling of assurity that she had not been violated. Her clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, but all intact. As her blurred, watery eyes struggled to adjust to the light, she felt as though she was actually swaying. If she was any more nauseated, she knew she'd throw up again. To her right, the unusually bright sunlight was streaming in through a very strange window. A round window.

Instinctively, Felicity's hands tensed on the bed as if she were getting ready to spring. Her body went utterly rigid, her breath suspended as she tried to test her own alertness. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, where she found her shoes. She popped her still-stockinged feet into them. She was now waking at an alarming rate, for instinct had planted a new fear into her...  
Her widening green eyes flicked around the little room: the narrow bed was bolted to the wall. The low ceiling had an empty lantern hanging from a hook in its planks. A chair and a brass chamber pot sat against the wall directly across from her, and that was a mere seven feet from where she sat. Her eyes snapped to the round window again. And as she stared, mouth slowly coming open, certain sounds met her ears: the slow creak of wood, men's voices, some kind of snapping sound. There was the thick, heavy smells of tar, wood and salty air...

No. No, no, no, no, NO!

With an uncontrollable cry straight from the gut, Felicity sprang from her seat, practically flew to the door of the little room and flung it wide open. Even before it had a chance to rebound off of the wall behind it, she was staggering out into a narrow hall of some sort, by instinct moving toward the end nearest her, where sunlight shone down from an open portal above. With each step she became aware of a new terror. The previously unimaginable was now becoming a reality. Her breathing had never been so fast, her face so horror-stricken. Panic grew to an almighty bursting point as she scrambled like mad up the step ladder, into the light, revealing herself to indeed be...

...emerging onto the quarterdeck of a very large three-masted ship!

The blazing morning sunlight was nothing compared to this shock! Gaping, wild-eyed Felicity Merriman turned a complete cirlce where she stood. Water everywhere! Beyond the ship, in every direction! There was the sky, all clear and blue, and then there was the sea, waves of it in dark blue and green. An ocean of sky met the ocean itself, and here she was, on this big boat! Not a speck of land in sight, anywhere near or far. Madness came over her and she screamed, so shrilly and so insanely that all activity around her came to an abrupt halt. Men, lots of men, going about their various duties, be it scrubbing the decks, coiling rope, climbing ropes, watching compasses and using sextants, all froze and looked around at the swaying, ghostly-looking young woman standing there with her fallen red hair whipping about in the wind.

"NOOO!" she screeched insanely as she took off barrelling toward the end of the ship nearest her, which happened to be the stern. She ran blindly, her mindless screaming continuing as she hurled over heaps of coiled ropes, knocking aside anyone in her way, her burning, running tears threatening to choke the very life from her just as sure as this unforseen shock seemed to be. There was no where to run, no where to go! There was water and waves, the mighty sea itself and the sea of sky on top of it.

She stopped just short of hurling herself into two redcoated British officers coming towards her from the quarter gallery, screamed some more, then whirled, staggered, her arms flailing frantically. "Nooooo! S-Stop this ship! STOP IT! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

"Easy, Miss," one of the British officers said slowly, carefully, holding up both hands as a sign that no harm was meant. The way a handler might when trying to approach his captive. The officer's voice was most guarded, steady. "Now just calm down..."

"Ah, Felicity, I see you have decided to join us!" a haughty voice oozed from just a few feet behind her. It was Forsythe!

Now, the crew of _The Protean _had been told that among the passengers returning to England there was a young lord and his "grief-stricken, mentally unstable finace" who had "lost her family in the war against the rebels," and that she was not to be "disturbed." Clearly, the young woman was exactly that, and perhaps even more so. For at the sound of Lord Forsythe's voice, her fingers clenched and she spun round, her green eyes flashing an uncontrollable, deep-simmering hatred so raw and so savage that she flew at him, shrieking with all the rage her willowy form had kept pent up. Her fist connected with his jaw with a surprisingly loud POP, sending him reeling sideways into his startled aging butler and utterly astonshing the already gawking crew of _The Protean_.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! YOU TOAD! YOU WHORESON! I'LL TEAR YOUR DAMNED EYES OUT OF YOUR ROTTEN HEAD! I WILL KILL YOU!" Then someone with thick strong arms had taken ahold of her from behind, for she had come just within an inch of making good on her oath to his eyes, which were bugged out in horror as Forsythe clasped the place where she had struck him with a trembling hand. She kicked and struggled against none other than the Gooch himself, as he had been up on deck making conversation with the ship;'s bosun, and was the only man present that was not too stunned by her behavior to make a move.

"Hold still, ye crazy filly!"

"NO! Let me go! I don't belong on this ship! Turn it around NOW!" She kicked out viciously. "I'LL KILL YOU, FORSYTHE, YOU BASTARD!" She screamed and struggled, but of course the Gooch was too strong for her to break his grasp on her arms. She proceeded to shriek mindless insults and swears at him, using every colorful, vulgar curse that Ben Davidson had ever taught her, which in turn had the topmen scrambling down from the masts to bear witness to the crazed young woman, who continued to flail and kick and curse.

"Get her back to the cabin," Forsythe muttered to the Gooch, still holding his hand to his jaw. Humiliated and fuming, he followed the burly hunter sulkily as Gooch managed to remove the squirming, shrieking girl from the quarterdeck and back down below deck.

If any member of The Protean's crew had doubts as to the truth to Forsythe's 'demented fiance' story, they doubted them no longer.

"A woman on board's bad luck t'begin with!" one man said to his shipmate.

"But that one's a lunatic!" "Aye," agreed the shipmate.

"It can't bode well fer us! That was bound t'be an omen!"

"Back to work, both o' ye," the ship's captain, a forty-somethingish, stern-looking gentleman, chided them from where he stood at the ship's wheel. He heard his men mutter and grumble amongst themselves as they returned to their duties, but even in the captain's mind he was thinking the very same thing they were. Seafaring myths came and went like the tides, but the one constant was that women on board were bad luck. Oh, certainly the captain had sailed many a ship with women as passengers, but nothing about them had provoked disturbance or incited trouble. It was the occasional lass who griped and wailed about leaving home or being seasick, or the meddlesome young thing that wanted to flirt with the officers, which always distracted from duty that caused the unnerving suspicion.

But a wraith-of-a-girl who screamed like a banshee and was capapble of socking her own supposed fiance's jaw so as to send him wheeling about was a sure sign of trouble if ever there was one!

Felicity continued to shout and squirm right up until she was taken back to the little cabin and thrust inside. The Gooch stood in the doorway behind Forsythe, filling the space with his bulk, but had to bend some to accomodate his scraggly head, for it was continually banging the ceiling planks. Forsythe stood with his arms folded tightly over his magenta waistcoat, staring at her with immense disapproval. The side of his jaw where she had struck him had already begun to purple.

"I am very disappointed in you, Felicity," he scolded as if she gave a damn. "I will not tolerate that sort of rebel behavior from you anymore."

"HA!" Felicity shot back, all the more defiant. "Or what? You'll refuse to marry me?" She laughed bitterly, psychotically, her hands in fists, her face flushed and her breathing hard. The shock of finding herself at sea seemed to have galvanized her out of her previous stupor. She was now quite livid.

"Oh no," replied Forsythe airily. "I still intend to marry you, but you will learn manners and respect and behavior fitting that of a lady of a fine manor."

"Go to hell!"

The Gooch chuckled. Forsythe sighed stressfully and said, "You will calm down and behave as a lady, or you will find yourself under the effects of the medicinal powders again, which I believe you have now become acquainted with?" He removed from his coat pocket a thick glass vial of white powder. He watched Felicity stiffen at the sight of it, and smiled slantingly. "You will want to eat or drink eventually, so I suggest you control yourself so that you may endure the voyage with your wits about you." "Where are you taking me?" she demanded spitefully.

"Why, to Bristol, of course! To Forsythe Manor, which you shall soon be the Lady of if you conduct yourself accordingly."

As if that would be a treat for her. A priviledge. As if she could aspire for nothing better. Through clenched teeth she spat, "I'd rather be burnt at a stake! You make this log turn around and take me back to my family RIGHT NOW!"

Forsythe shook his head. "I'm afraid that is out of the question, my dear. You agreed to be my wife. In return I agreed to make all of your problems disappear, and so they have-they are left behind in the despicable colonies."

The loathsome surprise of his logic made Felicity cry out in disbelief. "You never said anything about taking me away from my family!"

He shrugged indifferently. "I needn't have. 'Tis a woman's place to leave her home to begin her new life with her husband, wherever he may live. It is simply the way of things."

"Well it is not MY WAY!" She screamed at him. "I will NOT marry you! Not now, not ever!" She looked like she was getting ready to fly at him again. Forsythe's smile was crinkled and unsympathetic.

"There again, you are wrong. If you ever wish to see your family again, you will continue with your consent. Once we are wedded and you have proven yourself docile, domesticated and trustworthy, then I can send for your family."

"Send for them?" Her voice squeaked in outrage.

"Yes. As the Lady of Forsythe Manor you surely cannot expect to be traipsing around the world! The colonies are simply too unruly and too much of a bad influence upon you. You are far better off learning your place in civil, proper society. Oh, I'm sure things seem new and awkward to you right now, but once you are settled into your new home and learn the way of superior living, you will come around."

Felicity gritted her teeth and stepped forward defiantly. "I will die and split hell wide open first!"

"First thing we'll need to do is cure you of that foul mouth of yours." He held up the vial of white powder once more and said mindfully, "And this will be just how we'll do it if you do not cooperate. Do think about it, Felicity, and do think carefully." He turned to the Gooch. "Well! I do believe we've had enough excitement for one day, Mr. Gooch! Let us find Smedley and see about opening that cask of fine wine we brought aboard with us." He glanced back at the seething young woman shaking with rage and contempt. "Do get some rest, Felicity. I shall send Madam Helga 'round to see to your meals and needs."

As soon as the two men quit the room, Felicity screamed again in ferocious anger, snatched up the brass chamberpot, and hurled it at them just as the door went together. The pot struck it and clanged dully to the floor. Felicity just stood there, panting, mentally reeling, shivering from outrage. Although the door to the tiny cabin was not locked, it might as well have been for all the freedom she now had. Where in blazes was she to run to? Up on deck and over the railing?

The thought had passed her mind. The reality of her predicament washed over her and she plopped back down on the tiny bed's edge, holding herself tightly, rocking back and forth slightly. What on earth was she gong to do now? This was really, truly happening! She was being whisked away to England and no one could help her. She was completely and utterly alone. Ben absolutely hated her now, so there was no chance of ever seeing him again. Her father was shot and incapable of doing anything.

It occured to her then and there that no one knew where she was and what was happening to her.

The overwhelming horror of it all dropped upon her like dead weight. Exhausted and helpless, she did not attempt to hold back her tears, nor did she try to mute her crying. She did not care who heard her or what they thought of her. The only people who mattered were far, far away by now. It was quite likely she would never see anyone she loved ever again, for she still maintained her intention to destroy herself before Forsythe could ever-ever...

She could not even bring herself to think it. But it did not matter because it would never happen. She would not allow it. The damned snake had taken everything else from her-he would never have her innocence! She would, indeed, die first. So she curled up on the narrow bed and cried until she wore herself out. Too heart-sick to be sea-sick, she allowed sleep to take her, and hoped with all of her heart that she would never, ever wake up again.

END OF PART 2

PART 3 coming Tuesday


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